Full text of "The picturesque Mediterranean, its cities, shores, and islands, with illustrations on wood by J. MacWhirter, A.R.A., J. Fulleylove, R.I., J. O'Connor, R.I., W. Simpson, R.I., W.H.J. Boot, S.B.A., C. Wyllie, E.T. Compton and others"

See other formats

THE

PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

THE

PICTURESQUE

MEDITERRANEAN

ITS CITIES SHORES AND ISLANDS

WITH

BY J. MACWHIRTER A.R.A. J. FULLEYLOVE R.I. J. O'CONNOR R.I. W. SIMPSON R.I.
W. H. J. BOOT S.B.A. C. WYLLIE E. T. COMPTON AND OTHERS

VOLUME II.

CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY

NEW YORK

PfT

1013373

CONTENTS.

FAOK

NICE 1

GRANT ALLEN.

THE DARDANELLES ... ... 18

LUCY M. J. GABNKTT.

MALTA 33

ROBERT BUOWN.

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC: RAVENNA TO BRINDISI 55

T. G. BONNEY.

CALABRIA ... 81

CHARLES EDWARDES.

MALAGA 105

ARTHUR GRIFFITHS.

THE IONIAN ISLANDS 123

J. S. STUART-GLENNIE.

SARDINIA ... 145

CHARLES EDWARDES.

THE pK'TuiwM t )i'i-: MEDJTEBBANEAN.

I'AliK

AI.MKKS ... - 1(il

I, i:\vr Al.l.KN.

TIIK TKSCAN (MAST ............ I"-'

T. (.I. JJOXNKV

SIC1IA ........................ .-

II. I). Tli.VlLL.

XAl'LKS ................................... -M.S

EUSTACE A. 1{. BALI,.

THK MillTHEUX ADRIATIC ... .................. 241

T. (Jr. liONNEY.

THE UIVIEKA ......... ..................... 265

GRANT ALLEN.

ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD.

THE BAY OF NAPLES. By BIEKET FOSTER, R.W.S. Front ixpiere

NICE :

With Illustrations !>>/ JOH.\ Fl'LLEYLOVE, li.I.

View from the Castle Hill, Nice -Limpia, Port of Nice Promenade du Midi, Nice Promenade
des Anglais In the Jardin Public, Nice Cliapelle Ilusse On the Road to Villefranche View
from the Road to Fort Montalban, Nice Place Massena Villefranche, from the Sea ... 1 17

THE DARDANELLES:

With Illtistraliiim Jnj WILLIAM RIHPKON, li.I.

Mount Ida and the Gulf of Adramyti Mount Ida Besika Bay Tenedos The Plains of Troy,
from Erenkeui Castle of Europe, Dardanelles Abydos Gallipoli The Dardanelles: looking
towards Constantinople ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 18 32

MALTA :

With Illustrations l,i, ('. W. WYLLIE.

Malta and Comino, from Gozo Valletta, on the side of the Quarantine Harbour The Quays
of the Grand Harbour at Valletta Valletta, from the Grand Harbour Bay of St. Paul,
where St. Paul was wrecked- -General View of Valletta : Entrance to the Grand Harbour
P. and O. Steamer entering the Quarantine Harbour -Men-of-War in the Grand Harbour of
Valletta The Top of the Grand Harbour, Malta Isola Point, Malta Church of St. John,
Strada Reale, Valletta Citta Vecchia, or Notabile : The Old Capital of Malta The Road from
Valletta to Citta Vecchia 3354

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC: RAVENNA TO BRINDISI:
With Ilhistrations by II". If. J. J1UUT.

Piazza Maggiore, Ravenna Church of St. Apollinare Nuova Street in Ravenna Mausoleum
of Galla Placidia Tomb of Dante The Baptistry, Ravenna Ravenna: (1) Approach to the
City ; (2) Cathedral and Baptistry ; (3) Palace of Theodoric Comacchio Sketches at Comacchio
In the Pine Forest, Ravenna -Arch of Augustus, Rimini Ancona The Harbour, Brindisi
Casa Virgili, Brindisi Column of the Appian Way, Brindisi Sunset, Ravenna... 55 80

CALABRIA :

With Jllustration* In/ ('. II'. WYLLIE.

Brancaleone Shrine near Catanzaro - -Straits of Mossina, with Etna in tho distance Gerace
Roccella Tonica, from the Beach : Upper Calabria Amendolea : Upper Calabria A Street
Fountain, Catanzaro Catanzaro Marina On the Coast of Calabria Catanzaro Policoro,
Basilicata The Castle, Cotrone Strada Garibaldi, Taranto Taranto Rocca Imperiale ... 81 104

MALAGA :

With Tlli/strnt imis />// R T. COMPTOX.

Washing-place outside the Walls, Almeria Coast Road near Adra, Andalusia Malaga, from
the Alcazaba Malaga, from the Sugar Fields La Concepcion, Malaga Street beneath the
Alcazar, Malaga- Almeria, from the East Malaga Harbour Near Cabo Sagratiti : Sierra
Nevada in distance -Waggons with Esparto Grass at Almeria The Cathedral, Almeria Malaga,
looking West -A bit of Almeria : Capo di Gata in the distance Packing Lemons at Pizzaria,
near Malaga . '... 105122

viii THI-: PICTURESQUE MEDITEEEANEAN.

THE IONIAN ISI..\NI>S : _

Wit/, IZiMfMtfaMty r. w. WYLi.ir. PAOES

('..rt'ii Tin- "'ate .it' Corfu Cape Ducnto The Citadel, Corfu Vathy, Ithaca Samos Santa
Mama Ai\'ostoli. I'ephalonia \Viii(]]iiills. Ithara /ante On the Hill l>yon(l Xante Seashore,
Xante On the Island ..f Xante The Island of Ccrigo ... ... 1 1 1 :! 144

SARDINIA:

H'itli llliixinifiiHis lj II". II. (,'M.1'I\.

Tunny Fishing: The Slaughter - -Cagliuri The Roman Amphitheatre, Cagliari Nuraghe at Santa
r.arbara. Maeoiner Kntranoe to the Nuraglie of Santa Barbara Grotto of the Viper, by Cagliari
Tunny Fishing: The Look-out ...... ......... 145160

ALGIERS :-

With lllHsirfilhas In/ EDGAR BARCLAY.

l!ay i if Algiers, from Mustapha Moorish Villa, Mustaplm Harbour of Algiers Moorish Villa,

\\ith Bay of Algiers Algiers Woman Praying to a Sacred Tree ... ... ... ... 161 171

THE TUSCAN COAST:

\\,ll, lustrations by JOff.Y FfLLEYLOYE, R.I.

Tlie Coast near Viareggio, where Shelley's body was found Casa Magni Between Leghorn and
Grosseto Avenza Elba, from the Mainland Leghorn Harbour Porto Ferrajo, from Napoleon's
House Porto Ferrajo, Elba Napoleon's House Civita Vecchia Near the Mouth of the Arno
Orbitello and San Stefano The First llridge on the Arno Massa, near Carrara Main
Street of Piombino... ... ... 172193

SICILY:

With llliistrntnnix l,i, JO /f.Y M. I fll -U1RTKR, A.R.A.

Mountains of Calabria, from Sicily Taormina Church of Sant' Agostino, Taonnina Entrance
to Mola Rocks of the Cyclops Catania The Greek Theatre, Syracuse Girgenti View in
Girgenti Mount Etna, and Greek Theatre, Taormina Temples of Concord and Juno Lucina,
Girgenti Palermo Harbour On the Coast of Palermo, looking towards Termini _ Cape
Solunta ..................... 194217

NAPLES:

With Illuxtmti,,,!* Inj ALFRED EAST, R.I.

Torre dell' Annunziata Street in Amalti Naples, from Posilipo Naples : The Public Gardens
The Hermitage, Capri Capri, from Naples Capri Anacapri Vietri Salerno Castellamare
Procida and Ischia Sorrento Vico ... ... ... ... ... ... 218 _ 240

THE X01JTHEHX ADRIATIC:

With Illuetrations by JOHX I'TlLKYr.OVE, R.I.

Riva del Schiavoni Tlie Piazzetta, Venice Venice, looking towards Lido, from the Campanile _
Mola San Carlo, Trieste Duomo, Murano Duomo and Sta. Fosca, Torcello _ Chioggia, looking
towards the Adriatic Villa Miramar, neai' Trieste Bay of Parenzo Arco di Riccardo, Trieste

C.,|,,, (1 |sti-ia Kovigno The Amphitheatre, Pola Pirano, from the Sea ...... 241264

THE IMVIKKA:

\\",tli llhislnilimisl,,, \\'/I.LIA.V Il.iTHERKLL, It.l.

.,.,: The 01,1 Town-AntilM-s Fisher Folk, RivieraA Forest Road near Antibes The EsWrel
Uoonteim in Oannei lie Ste. Margu.-rite, Cannes Bordighera Mentone Monte Carlo, from
Boqoebnme Eloquebrnne, from the Coast Ventimiglia San Remo-Savona, from Abbissola
~ Allt>M " ............... 265280

THE

PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

View from the Caslle Hill, Nice.

NICE.

T17HO loves not Nice, knows it not. Who knows it, loves it. I admit it is windy,
dusty, gusty. I allow it is meretricious, fashionable, vulgar. I grant its
Carnival is a noisy orgy, its Promenade a meeting place for all the wealthiest idlers
of Europe or America, and its clubs more desperate than Monte Carlo itself in their
excessive devotion to games of hazard. And yet, with all its faults, I love it still.
Yes, deliberately love it ; for nothing that man has done or may ever do to mar its
native beauty can possibly deface that beauty itself as God made it. Nay, more,
just because it is Nice, our Nice, we can readily pardon it these obvious faults and
minor blemishes. The Queen of the Riviera, with all her coquettish little airs and
graces, pleases none the less, like some proud and haughty girl in court costume,
partly by reason of that very finery of silks and feathers which we half-heartedly
deprecate. If she were not herself, she would be other than she is. Nice is Nice,
and that is enough for us.

Was ever town more graciously set, indeed, in more gracious surroundings ?

Was ever pearl girt round with purer emeralds ? On every side a vast semicircle

.. of mountains hems it in, among which the bald and naked summit of the Mont

Can d'Aspremont towers highest and most conspicuous above its darkling compeers.

In front the blue Mediterranean, that treacherous Mediterranean all guile and

PICTURESQUE MKDITKIUUNEAN.

Ioveline88, smiles with myriad dimple to the clear-cut horizon. Eastward, the rocky
promontories of the M.mt Boron and the Cap Ferrat jut boldly out into the sea with
their fringe of white dashing breakers. Westward, the longer and lower spit of
,1,,. ,,;, O f Antihes hounds the distant view, with the famous pilgrimage chapel
of Notre Dame de la Garoupe just dimly visible on its highest knoll against the
serrated ridge of the glorious Esterel in the background. In the midst of all
nestles. Nice itself, the central gem in that coronet of mountains. There are warmer
:ml more sheltered nooks on the Eiviera, I will allow: there can be none more
beautiful. Mentone may surpass it in the charm of its mountain paths and
innumerable excursions; Cannes in the rich variety of its nearer walks and drives;

Limpia, Port of Nice.

but for mingled glories of land and sea, art and nature, antiquity and novelty,
picturesqueness and magnificence, Nice still stands without a single rival on all that
enchanted coast that stretches its long array of cities and bays between Marseilles
and Genoa. There are those, I know, who run down Nice as commonplace and
vulgarised. But then, they can never have strayed one inch, I feel sure, from the
palm-shaded trottoir of the Promenade des Anglais. If you want Italian medievalism,
go to the Old Town ; if you want quaint marine life, go to the good Greek port
of Limpia ; if you want a grand view of sea and land and snow mountains in the
distance, go to the Castle Hill; if you want the most magnificent panorama in the
whole of Europe, go to the summit of the Corniche Koad. No, no; these brawlers
disturb our pure worship. We have only one Nice, let us make the most of it.

It is so easy to acquire a character for superiority by affecting to criticise what
others admire. It is so easy to pronounce! a place vulgar and uninteresting by

NICE. 3

taking care to see only the most vulgar and uninteresting parts of it. But the old
Rivieran who knows his Nice well, and loves it dearly, is troubled rather by the
opposite difficulty. Where there is so much to look at and so much to describe,
where to begin ? what to omit ? how much to glide over ? how much to insist upon ?
Language fails him to give a conception of this complex and polychromatic city in a
few short pages to anyone who knows it by name alone as the cosmopolitan winter
capital of fashionable seekers after health and pleasure. It is that, indeed, but it is
so much more that one can never tell it.

For there are at least three distinct Nices, Greek, Italian, French; each of

Promenade du Midi, Nice.

them beautiful in its own way, and each of them interesting for its own special
features. To the extreme east, huddled in between the Mont Boron and the Castle
Hill, lies the seafaring Greek town, the most primitive and original Nice of all ; the
home of the fisher-folk and the petty coasting sailors ; the Nicaea of the old
undaunted Phocsean colonists ; the Ni/za di Mare of modern Italians ; the mediaeval
city; the birthplace of Garibaldi. Divided from this earliest Nice by the scarped
rock on whose summit stood the chateau of the Middle Ages, the eighteenth century
Italian town (the Old Town as tourists nowadays usually call it, the central town of
the three) occupies the space between the Castle Hill and the half dry bed of the
Paillon torrent. Finally, west of the Paillon, again, the modern fashionable pleasure
resort extends its long line of villas, hotels, and palaces in front of the sea to the
little stream of the Magnan on the road to Cannes, and stretches back in endless
boulevards and avenues and gardens to the smiling heights of Cimiez and Carabacel.

4 ////; PICTURESQUE MEDITEUUAM:.\\.

Kverv one of these throe towns, "in three different ages born," lias its own special
history and its own points of interest. Every one of them teems with natural beauty,
with picturesque elements, and with varieties of life, hard indeed to discover elsewhere.
The usual guide-book way to attack Nice is, of course, the topsy-turvey one,
to begin at the Haussmannised white facades of the Promenade des Anglais and
work backwards gradually through the Old Town to the Port of Limpia and the
original nucleus that surrounds its quays. I will venture, however, to disregard this
time-honoured but grossly unhistorical practice, and allow the reader and myself,
for once in our lives, to " begin at the beginning." The Port of Limpia, then, is,
of course, the natural starting point and prime original of the very oldest Nice.
Hither, in the fifth century before the Christian era, the bold Phocaean settlers of
Marseilles sent out a little colony, which landed in the tiny land-locked harbour and
called the spot Nicaea (that is to say, the town of victory) in gratitude for their
success against its rude Ligurian owners. For twenty-two centuries it has retained
that name almost unchanged, now perhaps the only memento still remaining of
its Greek origin. During its flourishing days as a Hellenic city Nicaea ranked
among the chief commercial entrepots of the Ligurian coast ; but when " the
Province" fell at last into the hands of the Eomans, and the dictator Caesar favoured
rather the pretensions of Cemenelum or Cimiez on the hill-top in the rear, the town
that clustered round the harbour of Limpia became for a time merely the port of
its more successful inland rival. Cimiez still possesses its fine ruined Roman
amphitheatre and baths, besides relics of temples and some other remains of the
imperial period; but the " Quartier du Port," the ancient town of Nice itself, is
almost destitute of any architectural signs of its antique greatness.

Nevertheless, the quaint little seafaring village that clusters round the harbour,
entirely cut off as it is by the ramping crags of the Castle Hill from its later
representative, the Italianised Nice of the last century, may fairly claim to be the
true Nice of history, the only spot that bore that name till the days of the
Bourbons. Its annals are far too long and far too eventful to be narrated here in
full. Goths, Burgundians, Lombards, and Franks disputed for it in turn, as the
border fortress between Gaul and Italy ; and that familiar round white bastion on
the eastern face of the Castle Hill, now known to visitors as the Tour Bellanda,
and included (such is fate !) as a modern belvedere in the grounds of the comfortable
Pension Suisse, was originally erected in the fifth century after Christ to protect
the town from the attacks of these insatiable invaders. But Nice had its consolations,
too, in these evil days, for when the Lombards at last reduced the hill fortress of
, the Roman town, its survivors took refuge from their conquerors in the city
]> y tll( ' I""''- Which thus became once more, by the fall of its rival, unquestioned
mistress of the surrounding littoral.

NICE. 5

The after story of our Nice is confused and confusing. Now a vassal of the
Frankish kings ; now again a member of the Genoese league ; now engaged in a
desperate conflict with the piratical Saracens ; and now constituted into a little
independent republic on the Italian model ; Nizza struggled on against an adverse
fate as a fighting-ground of the races, till it fell finally into the hands of the Counts
of Savoy, to whom it owes whatever little still remains of the mediaeval castle.
Continually changing hands between France and the kingdom of Sardinia in later
days, it was ultimately made over to Napoleon III. by the Treaty of Villafranca,
and is now completely and entirely Gallicised. The native dialect, however, remains
even to the present day an intermediate form between Provencal and Italian, and is
freely spoken (with more force than elegance) in the Old Town and around the
enlarged modern basins of the Port of Limpia. Indeed, for frankness of expression
and perfect absence of any false delicacy, the ladies of the real old Greek Nice
surpass even their London compeers at Billingsgate.

One of the most beautiful and unique features of Nice at the present day is
the Castle Hill, a mass of solid rearing rock, not unlike its namesake at Edinburgh
in position, intervening between the Port and the eighteenth century town, to which
latter I will in future allude as the Italian city. It is a wonderful place, that
Castle Hill wonderful alike by nature, art, and history, and I fear I must also add
at the same time " uglification." In earlier days it bore on its summit or slopes the
chateau fort of the Counts of Provence, with the old cathedral and archbishop's
palace (now wholly destroyed), and the famous deep well, long ranked among the
wonders of the world in the way of engineering, like our own at Carisbrooke. But
military necessity knows no law ; the cathedral gave place in the fifteenth century
to the bastions of the Duke of Savoy's new-fangled castle ; the castle itself in turn
was mainly battered down in 1706 by the Duke of Berwick ; and of all its antiquities
none now remain save the Tour Bellanda, in its degraded condition of belvedere,
and the scanty ground-plan of the mediaeval buildings.

Nevertheless, the Castle Hill is still one of the loveliest and greenest spots in
Nice. A good carriage road ascends it to the top by leafy gradients, and leads
to an open platform on the summit, now converted into charming gardens, rich
with palms and aloes and cactuses and bright southern flowers. On one side, alas !
a painfully artificial cataract, fed from the overflow of the waterworks, falls in stiff
cascades among hand-built rockwork ; but even that impertinent addition to the
handicraft of nature can hardly offend the visitor for long among such glorious
surroundings. For the view from the summit is one of the grandest in all France.
The eye ranges right and left over a mingled panorama of sea and mountains,
scarcely to be equalled anywhere round the lovely Mediterranean, save on the
Ligurian coast and the neighbourhood of Sorrento. Southward lies the blue expanse

'/'///; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

of water itself, bounded only in very clear and cloudless weather by the distant
peaks of Corsica on the doubtful liori/on. Westward, the coast-line includes the
promontory of Antilles, busking low on the sea, the lies Lerins near Cannes, the
mouth of the Var, and the dim-jagged ridge of the purple Esterel. Eastward, the
bluff headland of the Mont Boron, grim and brown, blocks the view towards Italy.
Close below the spectator's feet the three distinct towns of Nice gather round the
Port and the two banks of the Paillon, spreading their garden suburbs, draped in
roses and lemon groves, high up the spurs of the neighbouring mountains. But
northward a tumultuous sea of Alps rises billow-like to the sky, the nearer peaks
frowning bare and rocky, while the more distant domes gleam white with virgin
snow. It is a sight, once seen, never to be forgotten. One glances around entranced,
and murmurs to oneself slowly, " It is good to be here." Below, the carriages are
rolling like black specks along the crowded Promenade, and the band is playing
gaily in the Public Garden ; but . up there you look across to the eternal bills, and
feel yourself face to face for one moment with the Eternities behind them.

One may descend from the summit either by the ancient cemetery or by the
Place Garibaldi, through bosky gardens of date-palm, fan-palm, and agave. Cool
winding alleys now replace the demolished ramparts, and lovely views open out on
every side as we proceed over the immediate foreground.

At the foot of the Castle Hill, a modern road, hewn ill the solid rock round the
base of the seaward escarpment, connects the Greek with the Italian town. The

J'romenailc ilt-i .

NICE.

/ the Janiin Public, Nice.

angle where it turns the corner, well shown in Mr. Fulleylove's charming sketch of
the Promenade du Midi, bears on native lips the quaint Provengal or rather Ni?ois
name of Eaiiba Capeu or Eob-hat Point, from the common occurrence of sudden
gusts of wind, which remove the unsuspecting Parisian headgear with effective
rapidity, to the great joy of the observant gamins. Indeed, windiness is altogether
the weak point of Nice, viewed as a health-resort ; the town lies exposed in the open
valley of the Paillon, down whose baking bed the mistral, that scourge of Provence,
sweeps with violent force from the cold mountain-tops in the rear ; and so it cannot
for a moment compete in point of climate with Cannes, Monte Carlo, Mentone, or
San Remo, backed up close behind by their guardian barrier of sheltering hills. But
not even the mistral can make those who love Nice love her one atom the less.
Her virtues are so many that a little wholesome bluster once in a while may surely
be forgiven her. And yet the dust does certainly rise in clouds at times from the
Promenade des Anglais.

The Italian city, which succeeds next in order, is picturesque and old-fashioned,
but is being daily transformed and Gallicised out of all knowledge by its modern
French masters. It dates back mainly to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
when the population became too dense for the narrow limits of the small Greek
town, and began to overflow, behind the Castle Hill, on to the eastern banks of
the Paillon torrent. The sea-front in this quarter, now known as the Promenade du
Midi, has been modernised into a mere eastward prolongation of the Promenade des
Anglais, of which "more anon;" but the remainder of the little triangular space

8 TllK PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

between tin- Castle Hill and the river-bed still consists of fanny narrow Italian lanes,
dark, dense, an. I dingy, from whose midst rises the odd and tile-covered dome of
the cathedral of St. Separate. That was the whole of Nice as it lived and moved
till the beginning of this century; the real Nice of to-day, the Nice of the tourist,
the invalid, and the fashionable world, the Nice that we all visit or talk about, is
a purely modern accretion of some half-dozen decades.

This wonderful modern town, with its stately sea-front, its noble quays, its dainty
white villas, its magnificent hotels, and its brand-new Casino, owes its existence entirely
to the vogue which the coast has acquired in our own times as a health-resort
for consumptives. As long ago as Smollett's time, the author of " Koderiek
Random" remarks complacently that an acquaintance, "understanding I intended to
winter in the South of France, strongly recommended the climate of Nice in
Provence, which indeed I had often heard extolled," as well he might have done.
But in those days visitors had to live in the narrow and dirty streets of the Italian
town, whose picturesqueuess itself can hardly atone for their unwholesome air and
their unsavoury odours. It was not till the hard winters of 1822-23-24 that a few
kind-hearted English residents, anxious to find work for the starving poor, began the
construction of a sea-road beyond the Paillon, which still bears the name of the
Promenade des Anglais. Nice may well commemorate their deed to this day, for to
them she owes, as a watering-place, her very existence. '

The western suburb, thus pushed beyond the bed of the boundary torrent, has
gradually grown in wealth and prosperity till it now represents the actual living Nice
of the tourist and the winter resident. But how to describe that gay and beautiful
city ; that vast agglomeration of villas, pensions, hotels, and clubs ; that endless array
of sun-worshippers gathered together to this temple of the sun from all the four
quarters of the habitable globe ? The sea-front consists of the Promenade des Anglais
itself, which stretches in an unbroken line of white and glittering houses, most of
them tasteless, but all splendid and all opulent, from the old bank of the Paillon
to its sister torrent, the Magnan, some two miles away. On one side the villas front
the shore with their fantastic fagades ; on the other side a walk, overshadowed with
date-palms and purple-flowering judas-trees, lines the steep shingle beach of the
tideless sea. Imagine the King's Eoad at Brighton transferred to the sunny south,
and lined with avenues of sub-tropical foliage, only in place of a continuous row of
shops let its sea-front consist entirely of villas and palaces standing each apart in
its garden-close of orange trees and oleanders, and you get a faint idea of the
Promenade at Nice as it flaunts to-day in all its glory.

There is one marked peculiarity of the Promenade des Anglais, however, which
at once distinguishes it from any similar group of private houses we have anywhere
in England. With us the British love of privacy, which has, of course, its good

NICE.

points, but has also, we should never forget, its compensating disadvantages, leads
almost every owner of beautiful grounds or gardens to enclose them with a high
fence or with the hideous monstrosity known to suburban Londoners as "park
paling." This plan, while it ensures complete seclusion for the fortunate few within,
shuts out the deserving many outside from all participation in the beauty of the
grounds or the natural scenery. On the Promenade des Anglais, on the contrary,
a certain generous spirit of emula-
tion in contributing to the public
enjoyment and the general effec-
tiveness of the scene as a whole
has prompted the owners of the
villas along the sea-front to en-
close their gardens only with low
ornamental balustrades or with a
slight and unobtrusive iron fence,
so that the passers-by can see
freely into every one of them,
and feast their eyes on the beau-
tiful shrubs and flowers. The
houses and grounds thus form a
long line of delightful though
undoubtedly garish and ornate
decorations, in full face of the
sea. The same plan has been
adopted in the noble residential
street known as Euclid Avenue at
Cleveland, Ohio, and in many other American towns. It is to be regretted that
English tastes and habits do not oftener thus permit our wealthier classes to
contribute, at no expense or trouble to themselves, to the general pleasure of less
fortunate humanity.

The Promenade is, of course, during the season the focus and centre of
fashionable life at Nice. Here carriages roll, and amazons ride, and flaneurs lounge
in the warm sunshine during the livelong afternoon. In front are the baths,
bathing being practicable at Nice from the beginning of March ; behind are the
endless hotels and clubs of this city of strangers. For the English are not alone on
the Promenade des Anglais ; the American tongue is heard there quite as often as
the British dialect, while Germans, Eussians, Poles, and Austrians cluster thick upon
the shady seats beneath the planes and carob-trees. During the Carnival especially
Nice resolves itself into one long orgy of frivolous amusement. Battles of flowers,

Chapelle Russe.

10 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

battles of confetti, open-air masquerades, and universal torn-foolery pervade the
place. Everybody vies with everybody else in making himself ridiculous ; and even
the staid Briton, released from the restraints of home or the City, abandons himself
contentedly for a week at a time to a sort of prolonged and glorified sunny
southern Derby Day. Mr. Bultitude disguises himself as a French clown ; Mr.
Dombey, in domino, flings roses at his friends on the seats of the tribune.
Everywhere is laughter, noise, bustle, and turmoil ; everywhere the manifold forms of
antique saturnalian freedom, decked out with gay flowers or travestied in quaint
clothing, but imported most incongruously for a week in the year into the midst
of our modern work-a-day nineteenth-century Europe.

Only a few winters ago fashionable Nice consisted almost entirely of the
Promenade des Anglais, with a few slight tags and appendages in either direction.
At its eastern end stood (and still stands) the Jardin Public, that paradise of children
and of be-ribboned French nursemaids, where the band discourses lively music every
afternoon at four, and all the world sits round on two-sou chairs to let all the rest
of the world see for itself it is still in evidence. These, and the stately quays along
the Paillon bank, lined with shops where female human nature can buy all the
tastiest and most expensive gewgaws in Europe, constituted the real Nice of the
early eighties. But with the rapid growth of that general taste for more sumptuous
architecture which marks our age, the Phocaean city woke up a few years since with
electric energy to find itself in danger of being left behind by its younger competitors.
So the Nicois conscript fathers put their wise heads together, in conclave assembled,
and resolved on a general transmogrification of the centre of their town. By
continuously bridging and vaulting across the almost dry bed of the Paillon torrent
they obtained a broad and central site for a new large garden, which now forms
the natural focus of the transformed city. On the upper end of this important site
they erected a large and handsome casino in the gorgeous style of the Third
Republic, all glorious without and within, as the modern Frenchman understands
such glory, and provided with a theatre, a winter garden, restaurants, cafes,
ball-rooms, petits chevaux, and all the other most pressing requirements of an
advanced civilisation. But in doing this they sacrificed by the way the beautiful
view towards the mountains behind, which can now only be obtained from the Square
Massena or the Pont Vieux farther up the river. Most visitors to Nice, however,
care little for views, and a great deal for the fitful and fearsome joys embodied to
their minds in the outward and visible form of a casino.

This wholesale bridging over of the lower end of the Paillon has united the
French and Italian towns and abolished the well-marked boundary line which once
cut them off so conspicuously from one another. The inevitable result has been that
the Italian town too has undergone a considerable modernisation along the sea-front,

NICE. 11

so that the Promenade des Anglais and the Promenade du Midi now practically
merge into one continuous parade, and are lined along all their length with the same
clipped palm-trees and the same magnificent white palatial buildings. When the old
theatre in the Italian town was burnt down in the famous and fatal conflagration
some years since, the municipality erected a new one on the same site in the most
approved style of Parisian luxury. A little behind lie the Prefecture and the beautiful
flower market, which no visitor to Nice should ever miss ; for Nice is above all
things, even more than Florence, a city of flowers. The sheltered quarter of the
Ponchettes, lying close under the lee of the Castle Hill, has become of late, owing
to these changes, a favourite resort for invalids, who find here protection from the
cutting winds which sweep with full force down the bare and open valley of the
Paillon over the French town.

I am loth to quit that beloved sea-front, on the whole the most charming marine
parade in Europe, with the Villefranche point and the pseudo-Gothic, pseudo-Oriental
monstrosity of Smith's Folly on one side and the delicious bay towards Antibes on
the other. But there are yet various aspects of Nice which remain to be described :
the interior is almost as lovely in its way as the coast that fringes it. For this
inner Nice, the Place Massena, called (like the Place Garibaldi) after another
distinguished native, forms the starting point and centre. Here the trams from all
quarters run together at last ; hence the principal roads radiate in all directions.
The Place Massena is the centre of business, as the Jardin Public and the Casino
are the centres of pleasure. Also (verbum sap.} it contains an excellent patisserie,
where you can enjoy an ice or a little French pastry with less permanent harm to
your constitution and morals than anywhere in Europe. Moreover, it forms the
approach to the Avenue de la Gare, which divides with the Quays the honour of
being the best shopping street in the most fashionable watering-place of the
Mediterranean. If these delights thy soul may move, why, the Place Massena is
the exact spot to find them in.

Other great boulevards, like the Boulevard Victor Hugo and the Boulevard
Dubouchage, have been opened out of late years to let the surplus wealth that
flows into Nice in one constant stream find room to build upon. Chateaux and
gardens are springing up merrily on every side ; the slopes of the hills gleam gay
with villas ; Cimiez and Carabacel, once separate villages, have now been united by
continuous dwellings to the main town ; and before long the city where Garibaldi
was bom and where Gambetta lies buried will swallow up in itself the entire space
of the valley, and its border* spurs from mountain to mountain. The suburbs,
indeed, are almost more lovely in their way than the town itself; and as one
wanders at will among the olive-clad hills to westward, looking down upon the green
lemon -groves that encircle the villas, and the wealth of roses that drape their

12 Till-: PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN,

sides, one cannot wonder that Joseph de Maistre, another Nicois of distinction, in
the long dark evenings he spent at St. Petersburg, should time and again have
recalled with a sigh " ce doux vallon de Magnan." Nor have the Russians
themselves failed to appreciate the advantages of the change, for they flock by
thousands to the Orthodox Quarter on the heights of Saint Philippe, which rings
round the Greek chapel erected in memory of the Czarewitch Nicholas
Alexandrowitch, who died at Nice in 1865.

After all, however, to the lover of the picturesque Nice town itself is but the
threshold and starting point for that lovely country which spreads on all sides its

On the Road to Villefranche.

endless objects of interest -and scenic beauty from Antibes to Mentone. The
excursions to be made from it in every direction are simply endless. Close by lie
the monastery and amphitheatre of Cimiez ; the Italianesque cloisters and campanile
of St. Pons; the conspicuous observatory on the Mont Gros, with its grand Alpine
views ; the hillside promenades of Le Bay and Les Fontaines. Farther afield the
carriage-road up the Paillon valley leads direct to St. Andre through a romantic
limestone gorge, which terminates at last in a grotto and natural bridge, overhung
by the mouldering remains of a most southern chateau. A little higher up, the
steep mountain track takes one on to Falicon, perched "like an eagle's nest" on
its panoramic hill-top, one of the most famous points of view among the Maritime
Alps. The boundary hills of the Magnan, covered in spring with the purple flowers
of the wild gladiolus ; the vine-clad heights of Le Bellet, looking down on the abrupt
and rock-girt basin of the Var ; the Valley of Hepaticas, carpeted in March with
innumerable spring blossoms ; the longer drive to Contes in the very heart of the

VIEW FROM THE ROAD TO FORT MONTALBAN, NICE.

1 1 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

mountains : all alike are lovely, and all alike tempt one to linger in their precincts
among the shadow of the cypress trees or under the cool grottos green and
lush with spreading fronds of wild maidenhair.

Among so many delicious excursions it were invidious to single out any for
special praise ; yet there can he little doubt that the most popular, at least with the
general throng of tourists, is the magnificent coast-road by Villefranche (or Villafranca)
to Monte Carlo and Monaco. This particular part of the coast, between Nice and
Mentone, is the one where the main range of the Maritime Alps, abutting at last
on the sea, tumbles over sheer with a precipitous descent from four thousand feet
high to the level of the Mediterranean. Formerly, the barrier ridge could only be
surmounted by the steep but glorious Corniche route ; of late years, however, the
French engineers, most famous of road-makers, have hewn an admirable carriage-
drive out of the naked rock, often through covered galleries or tunnels in the cliff
itself, the whole way from Nice to Monte Carlo and Mentone. The older portion
of this road, between Nice and Villefranche, falls well within the scope of our
present subject.

You leave modern Nice by the quays and the Pont Garibaldi, dash rapidly
through the new broad streets that now intersect the Italian city, skirt the square
basins lately added to the more shapeless ancient Greek port of Lirnpia, and begin
to mount the first spurs of the Mont Boron among the villas and gardens of the
Quartier du Lazaret. Banksia roses fall in cataracts over the walls as you go ; looking
back, the lovely panorama of Nice opens out before your eyes, as well shown in
Mr. Fulleylove's charming drawing. In the foreground, the rocky islets of La Beserve
foam white with the perpetual plashing of that summer sea. In the middle distance,
the old Greek harbour, with its mole and lighthouse, stands out against the steep
rocks of the Castle Hill. The background rises up in chain on chain of Alps,
allowing just a glimpse at their base of that gay and fickle promenade and all
the Parisian prettinesses of the new French town. The whole forms a wonderful
picture of the varied Mediterranean world, Greek, Boman, Italian, French, with
the vine-clad hills and orange-groves behind merging slowly upward into the
snow-bound Alps.

Turning the corner of the Mont Boron by the grotesque vulgarisms of the
Chateau Smith (a curious semi -oriental specimen of the shell -grotto order of
architecture on a gigantic scale) a totally fresh view bursts upon our eyes of the
Bade de Villefranche, that exquisite land-locked bay bounded on one side by the
scarped crags of the Mont Boron itself, and on the other by the long and rocky
peninsula of St. Jean, which terminates in the Cap Ferrat and the Villefranche
The long deep bay forms a favourite roadstead and rendezvous for the French
Mediterranean squadron, whose huge ironclad monsters may often be seen ploughing

NICE. 15

their way in single file from seaward round the projecting headlands, or basking at
ease on the cairn surface of that glassy pond. The surrounding heights, of course,
bristle with fortifications, which, in these suspicious days of armed European tension,
the tourist and the sketcher are strictly prohibited from inspecting with too attentive
an eye. The quaintly picturesque town of Villefranche itself, Italian and dirty,
but amply redeemed by its slender bell-tower and its olive-clad terraces, nestles
snugly at the very bottom of its pocket-like bay. The new road to Monte Carlo
leaves it far below, with true modern contempt for mere old-world beauty ; the
artist and the lover of nature will know better than to follow the example of
those ruthless engineers ; they will find many subjects for a sketch among those
whitewashed walls, and many a rare sea-flower tucked away unseen among those
crannied crags.

And now, when all is said and done, I, who have known and loved Nice for so
many bright winters, feel only too acutely how utterly I have failed to set before
those of my readers who know it not the infinite charms of that gay and rose-
wreathed queen of the smiling Eiviera. For what words can paint the life and
movement of the sparkling sea-front ? the manifold humours of the Jardin Public ?
the southern vivacity of the washerwomen who pound their clothes with big stones
in the dry bed of the pebbly Paillon? the luxuriant festoons of honeysuckle and
mimosa that drape the trellis- work arcades of Carabacel and Cimiez ? Who shall
describe aright with one pen the gnarled olives of Beaulieu and the palace-like front
of the Cercle de la Mediterranee ? Who shall write with equal truth of the jewellers'
shops on the quays, or the oriental bazaars of the Avenue, and of the dome after
dome of bare mountain tops that rise ever in long perspective to the brilliant white
summits of the great Alpine backbone? Who shall tell in one breath of the
carmagnoles of the Carnival, or the dust-begrimed "bouquets of the Battle of Flowers,
and of the silent summits of the Mont Cau and the Cime de Vinaigrier, or the vast
and varied sea-view that bursts on the soul unawares from the Corniche near Eza?
There are aspects of Nice and its environs which recall Bartholomew Fair, or the
Champs FJysees after a Sunday review; and there are aspects which recall the
prospect from some solemn summit of the Bernese Oberland, mixed with some
heather-clad hill overlooking the green Atlantic among the Western Highlands. Yet
all is so graciously touched and lighted with Mediterranean colour and Mediterranean
sunshine, that even in the midst of her wildest frolics you can seldom be seriously
angry with Nice. The works of God's hand are never far off. You look up from the
crowd of carriages and loungers on the Promenade des Anglais, and the Cap Ferrat
rises bold and bluff before your eyes above the dashing white waves of the sky-blue
sea: you cross the bridge behind the Casino amid the murmur of the quays, and
the great bald mountains soar aloft to heaven above the brawling valley of the

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Place Masslna.

snow-fed Paillon. It is a desecration, perhaps, but a desecration that leaves you
still face to face with all that is purest and most beautiful in nature.

And then, the flowers, the waves, the soft air, the sunshine! On the beach,

between the bathing places, men are drying scented orange peel to manufacture

perfumes: in the dusty high roads you catch whiffs as you pass of lemon blossom

and gardenia: the very trade of the town is an export trade in golden acacia and

crimson anemones : the very gamins pelt you in the rough horse-play of the Carnival

with sweet-smelling bunches of syringa and lilac. Luxury that elsewhere would move

one to righteous wrath is here so democratic in its display that one almost condones

it. The gleaming white villas, with carved caryatides or sculptured porches of

freestone nymphs, let the wayfarer revel as he goes in the riches of their shrubberies

or their sunlit fountains and in the breezes that blow over their perfumed parterres.

Nice vulgar ! Pah, my friend, if you say so, I know well why. You have a vulgar

soul that sees only the gewgaws and the painted ladies. You have never strolled up

by yourself from the noise and dust of the crowded town to the free heights of the

Mont Alban or the flowery olive-grounds of the Magnan valley. You have never

hunted for purple hellebore among the gorges of the Paillon or picked orchids and

irises in big handfuls upon the slopes of Saint Andre. I doubt even whether you

have once turned aside for a moment from the gay crowd of the Casino and the

Place Massciia into the narrow streets of the Italian town; communed in their own

NICE.

delicious dialect with the free fisherfolk of the Limpia quarter ; or looked out with
joy upon the tumbled plain of mountain heights from the breezy level of the Castle
platform. Probably you have only sat for days in the balcony of your hotel, rolled
at your ease down the afternoon Promenade, worn a false nose at the evening
parade of the Carnival, or returned late at night by the last train from Monte Carlo
with your pocket much lighter and your heart much heavier than when you left by
the morning express in search of fortune. And then you say Nice is vulgar ! You
have no eyes, it seems, for sea, or shore, or sky, or mountain ; but you look down
curiously at the dust in the street, and you mutter to yourself that you find it
uninteresting. When you go to Nice again, walk alone up the hills to Falicon,
returning by Le Ray, and then say, if you dare, Nice is anything on earth but

gloriously beautiful.

GRANT ALLEN.

ViUeJ'ranche, from the Sea.

Mount Jila ami llic Gulf of Adratnyli

THE DARDANELLES.

Straits of the Dardanelles and their surroundings, 'though not without much
natural beauty, derive their interest chiefly from the peculiarity of their position,
and from the historical associations which have, from time immemorial, been
connected with their shores and with the adjacent country. On the Asiatic side
at least, every little headland and every inlet of the coast may be identified as
the site of some ancient city or shrine, or as the scene of some historical or
mythological event. Of the two peninsulas which are separated by the Straits, the
larger forms the westernmost point of Asia, and embraces the scene of " The Tale
of Troy Divine." The southern shore of this peninsula is washed by the waters of
the deep and beautiful Bay of Adramyti. At its eastern end formerly stood the
city of Adramyttium, according to Strabo a colony of the Athenians, but said by
others to have been founded by Adramys, the brother of Croesus, King of Lydia.
It was in a ship belonging to this ancient seaport that St. Paul embarked at
n-ea, when on his way to Borne to plead his cause before the Emperor Nero.
At the head of the gulf the mountain range of Ida approaches most nearly to the
rock-girt shore, from which it appears to rise gradually to its highest snow-capped,
and often cloud-enveloped, peak.

From the mountain-mass of Ida long spurs are thrown out in various directions,
a conformation which caused the ancients to compare it to a centipede, and its
modern Turkish name of the "Goose Mountain" is derived from its supposed

THE DARDANELLES. 10

resemblance to the foot of that bird. The summit is in reality separated into
four distinct peaks, to which classical writers gave collectively the name of Olympus,
thereby implying that they were the abode of the gods ; and respectively, the names
of Kotylos, Pytna, Alexandria, and Gargaros. The latter was more especially
consecrated to Jupiter, and the lower slopes were sacred to the Mother of the
Gods. Between the outlying spurs are green and wooded valleys, watered by
numerous streams, which have their sources in the mountain itself. Homer aptly
describes the mountain in the line

" Ida, the many-fountained, mother of wild beasts ;"

and the names of the several peaks, Gargaros, "the gurgling;" Kotylos, "the
drinking cup ; " and Pytna, said to be an abbreviation of pijtuie (jrvTivrf), a willow-
covered flask, well illustrate its character. The fourth peak has been immortalised
as the scene of the " Judgment of Paris." The forests which clothe the lower
elevations afford shelter, as of old, to numerous wild animals, wolves, bears, wild
boars, and jackals, but the higher regions are bare of vegetation. Though in
reality not much more than live thousand feet above the sea, the gigantic buttresses
by which it is supported, its cloud-capped summit, and its position in the peninsula,
give to Mount Ida an appearance of far greater altitude.

A curious phenomenon, which has been variously explained, is sometimes visible
on Mount Ida. During certain autumn nights flashes of light appear on the
summit long before the break of day, which seem to proceed from earthly fires, but
which gradually gather themselves into a mass as the shadows of night disappear,
and are absorbed in the sun as he rises in his natural form.

On emerging from the Gulf of Adramyti, and rounding Baba Bournou, the
Turkish name of the ancient Cape Lectum, there appears in sight to the north the
Island of Tenedos, and to the north-east the twin summits of the volcanic mountain
of Lemnos, in which classic mythologists located the forges of Vulcan. The
Asiatic shore along which we coast for an hour or two before entering the Strait of
Tenedos presents no very remarkable features. Inland, however, the eye follows a
range of wooded hills, behind which may still be seen, towering above the dark crests
of Ida, the snowy summit of Mount Gargaros. Uninteresting as the seaboard appears
at this distance, we are, nevertheless, passing the sand-choked harbour of Alexandria-
Troas, to the south of the little promontory of Touslatik Bournou. An oak-forest
now covers the remains of the theatres, temples, and aqueducts of the city founded
by Antigonus in honour of Alexander the Great. Similarly overgrown, too, are the
foundations of the outer and inner walls by which it was once defended; and for
many miles around cultivation is rendered impossible by the quantities of broken
marbles, arches, and other masonry which strew the ground, or are buried

THE Pl( "IT III'. S

MKJHTKHHA M:AN.

beneath the surface. In the ancient port, which was evidently highly ornamented,
hundreds of columns on a small scale lie scattered, and bristle among the waves to
a considerable distance from the shore; and the remains of a submarine wall cause a
ridge of breakers where the sea washes over them. The harbour now consists
merely of two little lakes of salt water.

On the other side of the above-mentioned cape the shallow curve of Besika
Bay extends to Koum Bournou, or Sandy Point. The name of this anchorage is
sufficiently familiar to Western ears as the station of the British and French fleets
in 1853, and again of the former fleet during the last crisis of the Eastern Question.

Alouiit Ida.

Near the south extremity is the village of Talion Keui ; a tumulus is to be seen
not far from the shore ; and, looking backwards, we again catch sight of the shining
summit of Ida, towering above the intervening hills. A number of sailing vessels
are often to be seen anchored in Besika Bay, waiting for a favourable breeze to
waft them through the straits.

Immediately opposite is the island-port of Tenedos, which appears to have the
same reputation among modern mariners as it possessed when Virgil described it as
xffitio male fid-i carinis, and so rock-girt is every other part of the coast that landing
elsewhere is almost an impossibility. The little port is both picturesque and
interesting. The town, which contains all the three thousand inhabitants of the
island, chiefly Turks and Greeks, climbs up the side of a hill and is crowned with
a fort and surrounded by massive walls with towers at intervals. On the hill-ridge
to the south stands ;i row of windmills, terminated by a small fort which guards
the entrance to the harbour. One or two gaudily-painted coasting vessels, moored to
the diminutive quay, are taking on board casks of the muscat wine of Tenedos,
which enjoys a certain reputation in the East. Peramas, with broad, wing-like
Bails, are skimming over the leaping waves, which, in their "innumerable laughter"

z
u

B
u.

IE
h

<
J

THE DARDANELLES.

Besika Bay.

ov 7eXao-yu,a), reflect in their depths the incomparable azure of the sky, and flash
back from their dancing crests the brilliant rays of the glowing sunlight.

In Trojan times Tenedos was evidently one of the chief seats of the worship
of the Smynthian Apollo, as appears from the invocation which Homer puts into
the mouth of the high priest of that divinity : " Hear rne, O god of the silver
bow ! Thou who guardest Cliryse and most holy Killa, and rulest Tenedos with
might ! Smynthian Apollo, if ever I roofed for thee an acceptable shrine, or if ever
I burnt for thee fat thighs of bulls or goats, fulfil my desire ! " * A few miles
to the south of Alexandria- Troas was another seat of this cult, the town of
Smynthiurn, from which this surname of Apollo is supposed to have been derived,
though some authors derive it from Smintltos (a/wWto?), a mouse, this animal being
sacred to the god.

Lying, as Tenedos does, opposite the entrance to the Dardanelles, its position
has always given it a certain strategical importance, and its historical vicissitudes
have consequently been many. After forming part of the maritime empire of the
Athenians, it fell successively under the domination of Macedon and of Home ; and
in later times its possession was disputed by Paleologoi aiid Cantacuzenoi, Genoese
and Venetians. Mohammed II. wrested it from the latter, who retook it in 1656,
only to lose it again in the following year, since which time it has formed part of
the Ottoman Empire.

Beyond Tenedos the coasts of the Troad rise in rocky and precipitous cliffs. A
small promontory, which is surmounted by a tumulus, and is called by native sailors
the Cape of Troy, juts out opposite the " Isle of Babbits," and has been identified

* Iliad I. 3740.

2-2 THE Pl("l'l'i:i-:s( t )ri<; MEDITERRANEAN.

by M. Choisenl-Goufner with the undent Agamia. This town, the name of which
signifies " The Unwedded," is said to have been built in ineinoiy of the daughters
of Troy who wnv exposed on this beacli to the fury of a marine monster, created
by the vengeance of Poseidon to punish Laoinedon for the bad faith he had kept
with him. When the lot fell upon the king's daughter, Hesione, it so happened that
Herakles was returning from his expedition against the Amazons, and lie promised
to save the maiden if Laomedon would give him the horses which Tros had once
received from Zeus as a compensation for Ganymede. The king promised, but again
broke his word ; whereupon Herakles sailed with a squadron of six ships against
Troy, and slew Laomedou with all his sous, save Priam.

According to some authors, however, this sea monster was a pirate named
Ketou, to whom the Trojans paid a tribute of their daughters. A cleft which is
to be seen in the rocks a little farther to the north is supposed to he identifiable
with the Propugnacidnm Herat Us, an entrenchment raised by Herakles and the
Trojans to withstand the pirate.

Before arriving at this cleft, however, we pass the village of Yenikeui, which
overhangs the sea on a cliff 203 feet high. Beyond it the precipitous rocks are
crowned with occasional windmills, as far as the cape and village of Yeni Shehir.
Among them rises the Chapel of St. Dimitri, built on the site of an ancient Temple
of Demeter, some of the marble fragments of which 'have been used for its
construction. The custom of replacing Pagan shrines by churches dedicated to
Christian saints with names phonetically similar is very general throughout the
East. Apollo, under his designation of Helios ("HXtov), becomes St. Elias, the
Parthenos is transformed into the Virgin Mary, and so on.

Yeni Shehir occupies the site of the ancient Sigeum. Its citadel has, however,
given place to a number of windmills, and a Christian church has been built over the
ruins of a temple of Athene, fragments of which are still to be found lying around.
The ancient city is said to have been constructed in great part with materials
brought from the overthrown walls, towers, and temples of the ruined Ilium, which
had ceased to be the abode of men ere Sigeum was founded. From this point a
magnificent prospect opens out before the eye on all sides. The Homeric Plain lies
to the east; to the west is the ^Igean Sea, with its islands, looking like enchanted
regions in the magic light of sunrise or sunset. Behind Imbros rises the island peak
of Samothrace, on which Poseidon sat and gazed on the battle raging before Troy ;
and, when the weather is clear, the mountain of Holy Athos, though distant more
than a hundred miles, is often visible. Northwards stretches the entrance to the
blue Hellespont, bounded by the Thracian Chersonese, which runs out opposite to a
point on which formerly stood the town of Elseus. And, to add a mythological to
the natural and historical interest of this spot, tradition relates that it was the

THE DARDANELLES. 23

landing-place of Herakles with his band of heroes when on his way to the attack of
Troy, and of the Greeks under Agamemnon.

After doubling the promontory of Sigeum three tumuli come into sight, standing
close together near the shore of a little bay, which are believed to be the tombs of
Festus, Patroclus, and Achilles respectively. A little beyond is the fort of Kouin
Kaleh, built on the beach at the mouth of 'the Simois. Behind it is the little
Turkish town of the same name, the two white minarets of which are visible above
the battlements of the castle. Though the fortress walls are high and massive, they
can now be easily scaled, the wind having accumulated masses of sand on the east
side. It is supposed that at the time of the Trojan War the tomb of Achilles stood
at the extreme point, and that what is now marshy land between that and Cape
Top-Tashi, the ancient Ehoeteum, was formerly a bay, which has been gradually filled
up by the deposits of the Simois, and its tributary, the Scamander.

Here it is that we must land if we would tread on Trojan soil, and visit the
reputed locality of those exploits immortalised by Homer " The flowery meadow
of the Scamander," and

" That field with blood bedewed in vain,
The desert of old Priam's pride "-

scenes difficult to realise on the now solitary plain, tenanted for the most part
only by buffaloes, herons, and frogs. The strong northerly breeze which whistles
through the clumps of rushes reminds us that we have before us what Homer called
'.Duo? f,ven6eff<ra, " the windy Ilium ; " and to our right is still the snow-capped peak
of "Mother Ida," embracing within her amphitheatre of encircling hills the valley

of the Simois.

The Plain of Troy is perhaps even more favoured than the surrounding country
with an exuberant fertility of soil and glorious beauty of landscape, and we ride to
Hissarlik, the scene of Dr. Schliemann's wonderful excavations, by bridle-paths which
lead through meadows of luxuriant grass, and red, yellow, and white flowers, with
cornfields on either hand. To our left a hill-ridge, covered with VaUonia oaks, runs
out as far as the promontory of Ehoeteum, on the declivity of which stands,
one hundred and thirty feet above the sea, the tumulus ascribed by tradition to
Ajax, the genitive form of whose name, Atavrm, is still to be found in the name of
Aiant-Upe (the Hill of Ajax), bestowed on it by the Turks. To the north of the
tumulus lies the site of an ancient city, probably Aeantium, strewn with fragments
of pottery and sculptured splinters of white marble.

A ride of a few miles brings us to Hissarlik, which, whether it be or not the true
site of the city of Priam, has yielded to the explorer unhoped-for treasures. Nowhere
else in the world has the earth covered up so many remains of ancient settlements
of man, lying upon each other, with such rich contents concealed within them.

Till-] PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Standing at the bottom of the great funnel which has opened up the heart of the
hill-fortress, the eye wanders over the lofty walls of the excavations, beholding here
the ruins of dwelling houses, there the great jars, five feet in height, which contained
the provisions of former inhabitants ; on one side the remains of a temple, on
another those of a kitchen. Not the least interesting of these successive strata is
that called by Dr. Scliliemann "The Burnt City," one of the deepest, being the third

from the bottom.
This had apparently
been destroyed by a
devouring fire, in
which the clay walls
of buildings were
molten and made
fluid like wax, con-
gealed drops of glass
bearing witness at
the present day to
the intensity of the
conflagration. Curi-
ous and costly trea-
sures were gathered
from .the ashes, one
after another. Ves-
sels and ornaments
of pure gold and of
fine workmanship,
which had escaped
the scorching heat,
presented themselves
to the astonished

eyes of the searchers. Vases of quaint form, and multitudes of objects inscribed with
sacred and mystical characters, were there unearthed, emblems of the religious
worship of forgotten nations. But it would be superfluous here to describe the
many wonders of Dr. Schliemann's Troy, for are they not written in his book
on "Ilion"?

The traveller may ride hence to the little town of Chenak, commonly called by

European 'The Dardanelles," and he will do wisely. For the wild northerly

wind, so frequent in this locality, may make it a day's journey by sea, and

hut a six hours' ride, through charming scenery along the coast, which here

Teneitos.

THE DARDANELLES.

Castle of Europe, Dardanelles.

forms a deep bay, past the tomb of Ajax, the ruius of Ehceteum, and the site of
the ancient Dardanus, wliich was

" Peopled first,

Ere Sacred Ilion, with its teeming crowds,
Was founded on the plain."

Fertile plains and wooded hills bound the view on the Asiatic side, an across the
Hellespont rises, in bare cliffs, the rocky shore of Europe. The Castle of Asia,
which commands the entrance to the narrower portion of the Straits, stands on a
point at the mouth of the river of the Dardanelles, which has its sources in Mount Ida,
and is identified with the Khodios of Homer. This fort, called by the Turks Siiltanie-
Kalessi, " The Sultan's Castle," or Chenak-Kaleh, " The Castle of the Potteries,"
from the chief industry carried on in the adjoining town, consists of a solidly-built
castle, with modern batteries. Seen from the sea, Chenak stretches beyond the
fort in a long line, close to the water's edge : its minarets and many-coloured houses,
with their green jalousies and red-tiled roofs, their little boat-piers and bathing huts,
and its consular residences, distinguishable by their various flags, offer, as it were, a
foretaste of the Bosphorus. The town is inhabited by a mixed population, the
majority of whom are Jews engaged in the wine trade, and in the various little
employments created by the compulsory stoppage of all vessels at this port, in order
to show their firmans. The pottery manufacture is carried on by means of the
most primitive machinery. Besides the vessels for domestic purposes, a large number
of coarse, but highly ornate, water vases and jugs are produced, and sold on board
the passing ships. Some of these are in the forms of lions, horses, and other
animals, and are not unlike the animal-shaped vessels found in the buried City of
the Trojan Plain. By the river side is the Meidan, or Common, an extensive

26 '/'///: PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

park-like expanse, carpeted with rich grass, and shaded by numerous beautiful trees.
Here and there are little verandah-fronted coffee-houses, before which long-robed
and white-turbaned Osmanlis are seated on carpets, or on little rush-bottomed stools,
gravely smoking the long chibouk, or snaky uarghileh. At a little distance, under
the trees, a group of Turkish women, squatting on rugs, are having a merry picnic,
and in their many- tinted feridges, pink, blue, and lilac, make bright patches of
colour on the luxuriant greensward.

On the other side of the Straits the Castle of Europe, also called by the Turks
Kelid-td-Bahar, the " Key of the Sea," stands on a point of land which juts out
to within a mile and a quarter from the Asiatic shore. This point, which was called
by the ancients Kynosema, is associated with Hecuba, the second wife of Priam,
King of Troy. According to the tragedy of Euripides (Hec. 3), which bears her
name, she was made a slave by the Greeks on their taking Troy, and was carried
by them to the Thracian Chersonesus, where she saw her daughter, Polyxena,
sacrificed. On the same day the waves of the sea washed the body of her last
surviving son, Polydorus, on the coast where stood the tents in which the captive
women were kept. Hecuba recognised the body, and sent for Polymestor, who
had murdered him, pretending that she was going to inform him of a treasure which
was concealed at Ilium. When Polymestor arrived, with his two sons, Hecuba
murdered the children and tore out the eyes of their father. Agamemnon pardoned
her for the crime ; but Polymestor prophesied to her that she should be
metamorphosed into a dog, and should leap into the sea at this place. According
to other writers, she was given as a slave to Odysseus, and in despair leaped into
the Hellespont ; or, being anxious to die, she uttered such vituperative imprecations
against the Greeks that the warriors put her to death, and called the place where
she was buried Kwo? o-^a, ." The Grave of the Dog."

The castle consists of an ancient fortress, surrounded by more modern fortifications,
and adjoining it is the village, terminated by the inevitable windmills, which stand at
the extreme edge of the cliff. At this point the current, flowing incessantly from
the Black Sea into the Mediterranean, attains immense rapidity, and vessels going
northward are unable to sail against it, save with a strong wind from the south.
With the exception of the despatch -vessels attached to the foreign embassies at
Constantinople, no man-of-war is allowed to pass the Castles of Europe and Asia,
the guns of which sweep, with a cross fire, the narrow channel. This passage was,
however, in 1807, forced by the British fleet under Admiral Duckworth. The
Turkish cannon were old-fashioned, and the gunners very indifferent marksmen.
Not a single mast was struck, and the fleet sailed through with a few torn sails,
and some sixty men killed and wounded. It did not, however, return so easily.
After having destroyed a Turkish squadron, the fleet lay eleven days before the

THE DARDANELLES. 27

capital while negotiations were proceeding ; and in the meantime the Turks, with
the assistance of the French ambassador, improved the defences of the Dardanelles.
When the English ships again appeared, the ancient guns succeeded in discharging
upon them a number of the immense balls of marble, which are still included among
the ammunition of these forts, and which not only did considerable damage to the
ships, but occasioned the loss of many seamen. The more modern fortifications by
which the Straits are now defended would, it is believed, with the additional defence
afforded by the Castle of Abydos, render such a feat difficult at the present day,
notwithstanding the quicker transit by steam.

Beyond the Castle of Europe the coast of the Chersonese retreats, forming
the Gulf of Maito, on the shore of which is a village of the same name, all that
survives of the ancient Madytos, of the Acropolis of which a few traces alone
remain.

Opposite, on the Asiatic side, the Cape of Nagara marks the exact site of the
ancient Abydos. This, according to Herodotus, Strabo, and Pliny, was formerly the
narrowest point of the channel. It appears, however, to have been widened by the
action of the currents, for modern geographers estimate it to be a little wider than
between the Castles of Europe and Asia. Here Xerxes constructed a bridge for the
passage of his army into Europe. The ancient town was originally built by a colony
of the Lesbians, and after having been burnt down by Darius, was rebuilt in the time
of Xerxes. It is mentioned several times in the history of the Peloponnesian Wars.
Fortified by Antiochus in 190 B.C., it was a few years later besieged by the Koman
Admiral Livius. Nothing now remains of the ancient town. The port, of which
M. Choiseul-Gouffier found some traces, was contained in the bend formed by the
long sandy point of Nagara, on which now stands a Turkish fort. It was here that
the Sultan Mohammed IV., in 1GGG, astutely exposed the imposture of a pretended
Messiah, the Jew Sabatai'-Sevi, whose teachings had been the cause of great disorder
among his co-religionists at Smyrna. "Canst thou work miracles?" demanded the
Sultan of his prisoner. "I can," was the reply. "Then," resumed the Padishah,
" my archers shall make of tliee their target. If their arrows harm thee not, then
art thou indeed the Messiah." At the prospect of this ordeal Sabatai's courage
failed him. He confessed his imposture, and when offered the choice of impalement
or perversion, he chose the latter, declaring that his object had always been that
of leading his followers to embrace the faith of Islam, and to declare with the True
Believers that " there is no god but Allah, and Mohammed is His prophet." Such,
however, was the credulity of many of his followers, that although, from fear of
persecution, they imitated their leader in his apostacy, they still believed in his
divine mission, and continued to cherish in secret the doctrines he had taught. The
descendants of this sect are now to be found chiefly at Salonica, where, though

'/'///;

nominally Mohammedans, they form a distinct community, having never become
assimilated with the rest of the Moslem population.

It is onlv after rounding the point of Abydos that Sestos, on the opposite shore,
foincs into view. According to the touching old story sung by Musaeus and
mentioned by Ovid, Leauder, a youth of Abydos, swam every night across the
Hellespont to visit Hero, a priestess of Aphrodite, in the temple of Sestos, guided
by the beacon of the lighthouse. Once, during a stormy night, the light was
extinguished, and he perished in the waves. On the next morning his corpse
\\as washed on the shore at Sestos, and Hero, in her grief on beholding it, threw
herself into the sea. Leander's feat was imitated by Lord Byron, who, however,
swam from Sestos to Abydos, and consequently with, instead of against the rapid

Abydos.

current. The Castle of Zumenick, built on the hill above Sestos, was the first
place in Europe on which the Ottoman flag was planted by Soliman I., and a
rocky strand, or mole, below bears the name of Glia-zller IsMessi, " The Victor's
Landing-place."

Beyond Sestos and Abydos the Channel widens. On both sides are now seen
fertile plains, watered by several small rivers. After passing the Castles of Kaziler
and Ouelger, we see, on the European side, the mouth of the river called by the
ancients the ^Egos-Potamos, immortalised by the victory of Lysander over the
Athenians, which terminated the Peloponnesiaii AVar. On the opposite side is
Lampeaki, a small town of some two hundred houses, grouped round a minaretted
mosque, built on the site of the ancient Lampsacus. It occupies a beautiful
position, amid olive groves and vineyards, with a fine background of wooded hills.
Of the ancient city, however, no traces remain. Lampsacus was one of the three
towns given to Themistoeles by Xerxes, " Magnesia for his bread, Migus for his

THE DARDANELLES.

;

meat, and Lampsacus for his wine." A mile or two farther on is the little town
of Tchardak, and opposite, on the European shore, is Gallipoli.

This town, which replaces the ancient Callipolis, stands on the south side of
the little peninsula which terminates the Straits on the European side, and has two
ports, one facing northwards and the other southwards. The town is picturesquely
situated at the foot and up the sides of a fortress-crowned hill, and above its red
roofs rise the minarets
of several mosques. The
lighthouse is huilt at the
end of a cliff, which
terminates in immense
blocks of rock, and forms
a striking object in the
landscape when seen from
the south. Native boats
and coasting vessels of
various build are moored
to the little wharves, or
skim bird -like over the
water, manned by vari-
ously costumed Greeks,
Turks, and Jews. Like
all Oriental towns, Gal-
lipoli looks best from the
sea, for its streets are
narrow, its houses low
and constructed chiefly
of wood, and its mosques
are of no particular inte-
rest. The bazaars, however, are large, and well stocked with the merchandise usually
found in an Eastern tsliarslii.

This town possesses the interest of having been the first in Europe to fall into
the hands of the Turks, nearly a century before the capture of Constantinople
(1453). To console himself for this loss the Emperor John Paleologos was in the
habit of saying that he had only been deprived of a winejar and a pigstye, alluding
to the cellars and storehouses which Justinian had built there. The Ottoman Sultans,
however, were better able to appreciate the importance of this position ; and Bajazid I.
caused the port and the walls of Gallipoli to be repaired, and built a great tower,
now fallen into decay. Few remains of any interest are to be found here, with the

Gallipoli.

:!() THE PICTl'llKHyi:!-: MEDITERRANEAN.

exce])tio]i of tlio ruined fortifications. A little to the north, up a creek, is a little
hexagonal edifice, the origin of which is unknown, and to the south are several
tumuli, which have the reputation of being the tombs of the ancient Kings of Thrace.

The little peninsula on which Gallipoli stands forms, with the rounded headland
above Lampsaki, the northern mouth of the Dardanelles. From its point the eye
wanders backwards down the Hellespont as far as Abydos. Beyond the smiling
Asiatic shore, stretching away to the east in bay and cape and wooded hill, we
catch a last glimpse of Ida's hoary summit. And before us, out of the blue expanse
of the waters, rise the rocky shores of the " Marble Island," which gives its
modern name to the Sea of Marmora.

This island, which lies to the north-east and is the largest of a group of five,
was called by the ancients Proconnesus. Its history has been as full of vicissitudes
as that of Tenedos, at the other end of the Straits. Occupied by a Milesian
colony in the seventh century B.C., and subsequently by the Athenians, it was
burnt by the Phoenicians after the revolt of the lonians. At the conclusion of the
Medic wars it again fell into the hands of the Athenians, and formed part of the
Empire of Athens. The ancient name of the island was, during the middle ages,
replaced by that of Marmora, or Marmara. This change of name is attributed by
some to the marble quarries for which the island is famed (from Mappapa, marble),
and which have for centuries supplied the material for the monuments and chief
edifices of Constantinople and the other cities of the Mgean. Other authorities,
however, are of opinion that this name dates from 1224, the period when George
Marmora was made sovereign of the Proconnesus by the Byzantine Emperor,
Emanuel Comneua, his relative.

The chief place in the island also bears the name of Marmora. It has lost
much of the importance which it possessed in Byzantine times ; but is still a
considerable town, with a good port. The large convents which formerly flourished
here have fallen into decay, and there are now but few inhabitants in the rest of
the island. Notwithstanding its name, Marmora is not unfertile, and exports some
native produce. Its chief trade is of course in the brilliant white marble which is
evidently abundant and worked at a very small cost, seeing that the doorsteps of
the generality of houses in Smyrna are made of it, that it forms the pavement of
their spacious vestibules, and is sometimes used for still meaner purposes.

The other islands belonging to this group are called respectively Afsia, the
ancient Ophiusa, Koulali, Aloni (the Halone of Pliny), and Gadaro. The two first-
mentioned are the largest, the remainder being mere islets. All are, however, fertile,
and are cultivated by a sparse Greek population. Beyond them extends the triangular
peninsula of Cyzicus. The ancient town of this name lies in the farthest reach of
the deep western bay where the neck of land which connects the peninsula with

THE DARDANELLES. 31

the mainland is only about a couple of miles across, and forms the apex of the
triangle which, at its base, measures some twenty miles.

Nearer to us, however, and to the west, a few miles above Gallipoli, on the
curving coast, is the site of the ancient Lysimachia, the Hexamilion of the Byzantines,
now a mere village. The acropolis of this city was connected with the wall of the
Chersonese, the remains of which are still to be seen between the inland villages
of lasili and Kadjali. This wall was first built by Miltiades to protect the towns
of the Chersonese against the invasions of the Barbarians. It was often destroyed
and rebuilt before the time of Lysiinachus, and subsequently served as foundation for
a Byzantine line of defence, concerning which Procopius has given many details.
The ruins of the Chersonese wall are still very considerable. There are still to be
seen at its base large blocks of stone, carefully chiselled, belonging to the Greek
period. The wall followed an almost direct line from sea to sea across the peninsula,
which is at this point about six miles in width. The village of Hexamil, or, as it is
also called, Axamil, which is all that remains of the classic Lysimachia and the
Byzantine Hexamilion, still boasts some remains of ancient temples and fragments of
sculpture. The French archaeologist, M. Albert Dumont, found here a funeral tablet
representing a crocodile about to devour a youth, and some large amphorae on which
the name of Alexis Comnenus is repeated from fifteen to twenty times in highly
ornamental Gothic characters, arranged on three bauds running round the body.
Axamil is situated on the little Gulf of Saros, in the centre of which lies the island
of the same name. The shores of the gulf are dotted with villages. The Thracian
mainland is from this point extremely flat and uninteresting. Looking seawards,
however, the view is still magnificent. In the foreground gleams the island of
Marmora ; and beyond stretch the Mysian and Bythinian shores, richly tinged with
ever-varying opal lights.

The regions surrounding the Dardanelles have been, from time immemorial,
subject to severe earthquakes, and the eminent geologist, Sir Charles Lyell, is of
opinion that these straits, as well as the Bosphorus, were formed by the bursting
through of the Black Sea into the J^gean, in consequence of some subterranean
disturbance. The rocks on both sides of the northern mouth of the Bosphorus are
volcanic, and an earthquake rift in the coast at this point probably let loose the
waters of the Euxine over the country between that sea and the ^Egean. As the
above-mentioned author says, " the traditions which have come down to us from
remote ages of great inundations had doubtless their origin in a series of local
catastrophes caused principally by earthquakes." And as to the great inundation
known as the deluge of Samothrace, which is generally referred to a distinct date,
" it appears that the shores of that small island and the adjoining mainland of Asia
were inundated by the sea."

'////; P1CTUE /; s v i ' /; .1 / /; nrr /; // RA NEA N.

Sicnlus says that the inhabitants had time to take refuge in the
mountains and save themselves by Might. He also relates that long after the event,
the fishermen of the island occasionally drew up in their nets the capitals of columns
"which were the remains of cities submerged by that terrible catastrophe." And it
is not impossible, according to Sir Charles Lyell, "that the bursting of the Black
Sea through the Thracian Bosphorus into the Grecian Archipelago which accompanied,
some say caused, the Samothracian deluge, may have reference to a wave or
succession of waves raised in the Euxiue by the same convulsion."

The facts which seem to indicate that in the Troad volcanic agencies were still
active at a comparatively recent epoch, and at all events since the beginning of the
historic period, find further confirmation in a popular tradition which was current
among the inhabitants of that ancient city of Assos, on the Gulf of Adramyti.
According to this tradition, there was found near Assos a kind of stone so burning hot
that the dead buried in these regions were immediately consumed, a circumstance
which caused the name of AMos aapKoif>dyo<;, " The Body-consumiug-Stone," to be given
to it. This story is no doubt based on the hot temperature which exhaled from
the fissures of the trachytic rocks which prevail generally in this district. The
brine-springs of Touzla, a little to the north, which are mentioned by Strabo and
Pliny, still send out their jets, at a temperature of from 78 to 100 degrees centigrade,
hotter even than the waters of the Great Geyser of Iceland.

LUCY M. J. GAKNETT.

The Dardanelles : Looking towards Constantinople.

MALTA.

is a difference of opinion among voyagers as to whether it is best to
approach Malta by night or by day ; whether there is a greater charm in
tracing the outline of " England's Eye in the Mediterranean " by the long,
undulating lines of light along its embattled front, and then, as the sun rises, to
permit the details to unfold themselves, or to see the entire mass of buildings
and sea walls and fortifications take shape according to the rapidity with which
the ship nears the finest of all the British havens in the Middle Sea. Much
might be said for both views, and if by " Malta " is meant its metropolis,
then the visitor would miss a good deal who did not see the most picturesque
portion of the island in both of these aspects. And by far the majority of those
who touch at Valletta, on their way to or from some other place, regard this city
as "the colony" in miniature. Many, indeed, are barely aware that it has a name
apart from that of the island on which it is built; still fewer that the "Villa"
of La Vallette is only one of four fortified towns all run into one, and that over
the surface of this thickly populated clump are scattered scores of villages, while
their entire coasts are circled by a ring of forts built wherever the cliffs are not
steep enough to serve as barriers against an invader. On the other hand, while
there is no spot in the Maltese group half so romantic, or any " casal " a tithe as
magnificent as Valletta and its suburbs, it is a little unfortunate for the scenic
reputation of the chief island-fortress that so few visitors see any other part of it

:;i THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

than the country in the immediate vicinity of its principal town. For, if none of
the islands are blessed with striking scenery, that of Malta proper is perhaps the
least attractive.

Though less than sixty miles from Sicily, these placid isles, oft though they have
been shaken by earthquakes, do not seem to have ever been troubled by the volcanic
outbursts of Etna. Composed of a soft, creamy rock, dating from the latest
geological period, the elephants and hippopotami disinterred from their caves show
that, at a time when the Mediterranean stretched north and south over broad
areas which are now dry land, these islands were still under water, and that at a
date comparatively recent, before the Straits of Gibraltar had been opened, and
when the contracted Mediterranean was only a couple of lakes, Malta was little
more than a peninsula of Africa. Indeed, so modern is the groiip as we know it,
that within the human era Comino seems to have been united with the islands on
each side of it. For, as the deep wheel-ruts on the opposite shores of the two
nearer islands, even at some distance in the water, demonstrate, the intervening
straits have either been recently formed, or were at one period so shallow as
to be fordable.

But if it be open to doubt whether night or day is the best time to make our
first acquaintance with Malta, there can be none as to the season of the year when
it may be most advantageously visited ; for if the tourist comes to Malta in spring,
he will find the country bright with flowers, and green with fields of wheat and
barley, and cumin and " sulla " clover, or cotton, and even with plots of sugar-cane,
tobacco, and the fresh foliage of vineyards enclosed by hedges of prickly pears
ready to burst into gorgeous blossom. Patches of the famous Maltese potatoes flourish
cheek by jowl with noble crops of beans and melons. Figs and pomegranates,
peaches, pears, apricots, and medlars are in blossom; and if the curious pedestrian
peers over the orchard walls, he may sight oranges and lemons gay with the
flowers of which the fragrance is scenting the evening air. But in autumn, when the
birds of passage arrive for the winter, the land has been burnt into barrenness by the
summer sun and the scorching scirocco. The soil, thin, but amazingly fertile, and
admirably suited by its spongy texture to retain the moisture, looks white and
parched as it basks in the hot sunshine ; and even the gardens, enclosed by high
stone walls to shelter them from the torrid winds from Africa, or the wild
" gregale " from the north, or the Levanter which sweeps damp and depressing
towards the Straits of Gibraltar, fail to relieve the dusty, chalk-like aspect of the
landscape. Hills there are they are called the " Bengemma mountains " by the
proud Maltese but they are mere hillocks to the scoffer from more Alpine
regions, for at Ta-Faghlia, the highest elevation in Malta, 750 feet is the total
tale told by the barometer, while it is seldom that the sea cliffs reach half that

MALTA. 35

height. The valleys in the undulating surface are in proportion, and even they
and the little glens worn by the watercourses are bald, owing to the absence of wood ;
for what timber grew in ancient times has long ago been hewn down, and the
modern Maltee has so inveterate a prejudice against green leaves which are not
saleable that he is said to have quietly uprooted the trees which a paternal
Government planted for the supposed benefit of unappreciative children. Hence,
with the exception of a bosky grove around some ancient palace of the knights,
or a few carob trees, so low that the goats in lack of humbler fodder can, as in
Morocco, climb into them for a meal, the rural districts of Malta lack the light
and shade which forests afford, just as its arid scenery is unrelieved either by lake,
or river, or by any brook worthy of the name. However, as the blue sea, running
into inlet and bay, or ending the vista of some narrow street, or driving the
spray before the "tempestuous" wind, called " Euroklydon," is seldom out of sight,
the sparkle of inland water is less missed than it would be were the country larger.

But Malta proper is only one of the Maltese group. As the geography books
have it, there are three main islands, Malta, Gozo, and between them the little one of
Comino, which with Cominetto, a still smaller islet close by, seems to have been the
crest of a land of old, submerged beneath the sea. The voyager is barely out of sight
of Sicily before the faint outlines of these isles are detected, like sharply defined
clouds against a serenely blue sky. Yet, iindeniably, the first view of Malta is
disappointing; for with Etna fresh in the memory of the visitor from one direction,
and the great Kock of Gibraltar vivid in the recollection of those arriving from the
other end of the Mediterranean, there is little in any of the three islands to strike
the imagination. For most of the picturesqueness of Malta is due to the works of
man, and all of its romance to the great names and mighty events with which its
historic shores are associated. But there are also around the coasts of this major
member of the Maltese clump the tiny Filfla, with its venerable church ; the Pietro
Negro, or Black Eock ; Gzeier sanctified by the wreck of St. Paul; and Scoglio
Marfo, on which a few fishermen encamp, or which grow grass enough for some
rabbits or a frugal goat or two ; and, great in fame though small in size, the Hagra
tal General, or Fungus Rock, on which still flourishes that curious parasitic plant,
the Fungus Melitensis of the old botanists, the Cynomorium coccineum of latter-day
systematists. The visitor who has the curiosity to land on the rock in April or May
will find it in full flower, and perhaps, considering its ancient reputation, may be
rather disappointed with the appearance of a weed which at one time enjoyed
such a reputation as a stauncher of blood and a sovereign remedy for a host of
other diseases that the Knights of Malta stored it carefully as a gift for friendly
monarchs and to the hospitals of the island. It is less valued in our times, though
until very recently the keeper of the rock on which it flourishes most abundantly

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

was a permanent official in the colonial service. The place indeed is seldom profaned
ftowadaya by human feet; for the box drawn in a pulley by two cables, which was
the means of crossing the hundred and fifty feet of sea between the rocks and the
shore of Dueira, was broken down some years ago, and has not since been renewed.
But, apart from these scientific associations of this outlier of Gozo, the second largest
island of the Maltese group is worthy of being more frequently examined than it is,

albeit the lighthouse of Ta
Giurdan is familiar enough
to every yachtsman in the
" Magnum Mare." For it
is the first bit of Malta
seen from the west, and
the last memory of it
which the home - coming
exile sights as he returns
with a lighter heart from
the East. Yet except for
its classical memories (it
was the fabled isle of
Calypso, the Gaulos of the
Greeks, the Gaulum of the
Romans, and the Ghaudex
of the Arabs, a name still
in use among the natives),
the tourist in search of
the picturesque will not
find a great deal to gratify
him in Gozo, with its bay-
indented shore, rugged in
places, but except in the
southern and western coast

rarely attaining a height of three hundred feet above the sea. Still, its pleasing
diversity of hill and dale, its occasional groves of trees, and the flourishing gardens
from which Valletta market is supplied with a great portion of its vegetables, lend
an appearance of rural beauty to Gozo seldom seen or altogether lacking in the rest
of the group. Gozo appears to have suffered less from foreign invasions than Malta
or even Comino. Its goat cheese still preserves something of the reputation that
comestible obtained in days when the world had a limited acquaintance with dairy
produce, and the " Maltese jacks," potent donkeys (the very antipodes of their tiny

Valletta, on the side of the Quarantine Harbour.

J
J

Q
Z
<
K

tf)

38 Till-: PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

kindred on the Barbary coast) which have been known to fetch five hundred pounds
in America, are mostly exported from this spot. But, like the peculiar dogs and
cats of the group, they are now getting scarce.

The appearance of the Gozitans also is somewhat different from that of their
countrymen ^Isewhere, and they speak the Maltese tongue with a closer approach to
the Arabic than do the inhabitants of the other islands, whose speech has become
intermingled with that of every Mediterranean race, from the Tynans to the- Italians,
though the basis of it is unquestionably Phoenician, and is gradually getting dashed
with the less sonorous language of their latest rulers. Indeed, the lamps in daily use
are identical in shape with the earthenware ones disinterred from the most ancient
of Carthaginian tombs, and until lately a peculiar jargon, allied to Hebrew, and
known as "Braik," was spoken at Casal Garbo, an inland village not far from the
bay off which lies the General's Eock. But the Gozo folk nowadays trade neither
in tin nor in purple, their gaily-painted boats crossing the Straits of Freghi with
no more romantic cargoes than cabbages and cucumbers for Her Majesty's ships ;
and the swarthy damsels who sit at the half-doors of the white houses are intent
on nothing so much as the making of the famous Maltese lace. Except, however,
in the strength, industry, and thrift of the Gozitans, there is little in this island

to remind the visitor of their Phoenician forefathers, and in a few years, owing to

the steady intercourse which daily steam comnranication has brought about between
them and their less sophisticated countrymen, the "Giant's Tower" (the ruins of a
temple of Astarte) at Casal Xghara will be about the only remnant of these pre-historic
settlers. But Casal Nadur, with its robust men and handsome women, the Tierka
Zerka or Azure Window, a natural arch on the seashore, and Rabato, the little capital
in the centre of the island, which, in honour of the Jubilee year, changed its name
for that of Victoria, are all worthy of a walk farther afield than Migiarro, or the
"carting place," off which the Valletta steamer anchors. From the ruined walls of
the citadel the visitor can survey Gozo with its conical hills, flattened at the top
owing to the wearing away of the upper limestone by the action of the weather and
sinking of the underlying greensand, the whole recalling a volcano-dotted region.
Then, if he cares to tarry so long, the sightseer may from this pleasant centre tramp
or drive to the Bay of Ramla, in a rock overhanging which is another " Grotto of
Calypso," or to the Bay of Marsa-il-Forno, or to the Bay of Xlendi, through a
well-watered ravine filled with fruit-trees, a walk which offers an opportunity of seeing
the best cliff scenery in the island ; or, finally, to the Gala Dueira, hard by which is
the General's Rock, which (as we already know) forms one of the chief lions of
Gozo. Comino with its caves will not detain the most eager of sightseers very long,
and its scanty industries, incapable of supporting more than forty people, are not
calculated to arouse much enthusiasm.

MALTA. 39

The shortest route to Valletta from Migiarro is to Marfa ; but most people will
prefer to land at once at Valletta. Here the change from the quiet islands to the
busy metropolis of the group is marked. Everything betokens the capital of a
dependency which, if not itself wealthy, is held by a wealthy nation, and a fortress
upon which money has been lavished by a succession of military masters without
any regard to the commercial aspects of the outlay. For if Malta has been and
must always continue to be a trading centre, it has for ages never ceased to be
primarily a place of arms, a stronghold to the defensive strength of which every
other interest must give way. All the public buildings are on a scale of
substantiality which, to the voyager hitherto familiar only with Gibraltar, is rather
striking. Even the residences of the officials are finer than one would expect in a
" colony " (though there are no colonists, and no room for them) with a population
less than that of a second-rate English borough (164,000), and a revenue rarely
exceeding 250,000 per annum. Dens, vile beyond belief, there are no doubt in
Valletta. But these are for the most part in narrow bye-lanes, which have few
attractions for the ordinary visitor, or in the Manderaggio, a quasi-subterranean
district, mostly below sea-level, where the houses are often without windows and
conveniences even more important ; so that there is an unconscious grimness in
the prophetic humour which has dubbed this quarter of Valletta (two-and-a-half acres
in area, peopled by 2,544 persons) "the place of cattle." Yet though the ninety-five
square miles of the Maltese islands are about the most densely populated portions of
the earth, the soil is so fertile, and the sources of employment, especially since the
construction of the Suez Canal, so plentiful, that extreme penury is almost unknown,
while the rural population seem in the happy mean of being neither rich nor poor.

But the tourist who for the first time surveys Valletta from the deck of a
Peninsular and Oriental Liner as she anchors in the Quarantine Harbour, or still
better from the Grand Harbour on the other side of the peninsula on which the
capital is built, sees little of this. Scarcely is the vessel at rest before she is
surrounded by a swarm of the peculiar high-prowed " dghaisas," or Maltese boats,
the owners of which, standing while rowing, are clamorous to pull the passenger
ashore; for Malta, like its sister fortress at the mouth of the Mediterranean, does
not encourage wharves and piers, alongside of which large craft may anchor and
troublesome crews swarm when they are not desired. Crowds of itinerant dealers,
wily people with all the supple eagerness of the Oriental, and all the lack of
conscience which is the convenient heritage of the trader of the Middle Sea, establish
themselves on deck, ready to part with the laces, and filigrees, and corals, and
shells, and apocryphal coins of the Knights of St. John, for any ransom not less than
twice their value. But in Malta, as elsewhere in the Mediterranean ports, there are
always two prices, the price for which the resident obtains anything, and the price

TII /; ri<"i:i;i!H8QUE MEDITEEEANEAN.

which the stranger is a^krd to pay. To these tariffs a new one has of late yeai's heen
added, and this is that paradisaical figure, that fond legend of a golden age invoked
only when the buyer is very eager, or very verdant, or very rich, "the price that
Lady Brassey paid." However, even when the sojourner fancies that he has made a
fair bargain (and the appraisements fall suddenly as the last bell begins to ring), the
pedler is well in pocket, so well, indeed, that it has been calculated every steamer
leaves behind it something like two hundred pounds in cash.

But if the rubbish sold in Valletta can be bought quite as good and rather
more cheaply in London, Valletta itself must be seen in situ. The entrance to

Valletta, from the Grand Harbour.

either of the harbours enables one to obtain but a slight idea of the place. It
seems all forts and flat-roofed buildings piled one above the other in unattractive
terraces. There are guns everywhere, and, right and left, those strongholds which are
the final purposes of cannon. As the steamer creeps shrieking into " Port Marsa-
Musciet" (the "Port" is superfluous, since the Arabic " Marsa " means the same thing)
or Quarantine Harbour, it passes Dragut Point, with Fort Tigne on the right and Fort
St. Elmo on the left, in addition to Fort Manoel and the Lazaretto on an island
straight ahead. Had our destination been the Grand Harbour on the other side
of Valletta, Fort Eicasoli and Fort St. Augelo would have been equally in evidence,
built on two of the various projections which intersect the left side of that haven.
But the forts are, as it were, only the ganglia of the vast systems of fortifications

MALTA.

Bay of St. Paul, where St. Paul was wrecked.

which circle every creek and bay and headland of Valletta and its offshoots. Ages
of toil, millions of money, and the best talent of three centuries of engineers have
been lavished on the bewildering mass of curtains and horn-works, and ravelins
and demilunes, and ditches and palisades, and drawbridges and bastions, and
earthworks, which meet the eye in profusion enough to have delighted the soul
of Uncle Toby. Sentinels and martial music are the most familiar of sights and
sounds, and after soldiers and barracks, sailors and war-ships, the most frequent
reminders that Malta, like Gibraltar, is a great military and naval station. But it
is also in possession of some civil rights unknown to the latter. Among these is a
legislature with limited power and boundless chatter, and, what is of more importance
to the visitor, the citizens can go in and out of Valletta at all hours of the day
and night, no raised drawbridge or stolid portcullis barring their movements in times
of peace. The stranger lands without being questioned as to his nationality, and in
Malta the Briton is bereft of the Civis-llomaniis-sum sort of feeling he imbibes in
Gibraltar ; for here the alien can circulate as freely as the lords of the soil. But
the man who wishes to explore Valletta must be capable of climbing ; for from the
landing place to the chief hotel in the main street the ascent is continuous, and
for the first part of the way is by a flight of stairs. Indeed, these steps are so often
called into requisition that one can sympathise with the farewell anathema of Byron
as he limped up one of these frequent obstacles to locomotion,

" Adieu ! ye cursed streets of stairs !
(How surely lie who mounts you swears)."

The reason of this peculiar construction is that Valletta is built on the ridge of
Mount Scebarras, so that the ascent from the harbour to the principal streets

42 THE PICTUEE8QUE MEDITERRANEAN.

running along the crest of the hill is necessarily steep. The result is, however, a
more picturesque town than would have been the case had the architect who laid out
the town when Jean de La Valette, Grand Master of the Knights, resolved in 1566
to transfer the capital here from the centre of the island, been able to find funds
to form a plateau by levelling down the summit of the mound. Hence Valletta is
composed of streets running longitudinally and others crossing the former at right
angles. Most of these are eked out by steps ; one, the Strada Santa Lucia, is
made up of nights of them, and none are level from end to end. The backbone
of the town and the finest of its highways is the Strada Eeale, or Eoyal
Street, which in former days was known as the Strada San Georgio, and
during the brief French occupation as "the Street of the Eights of Man." Seven
main streets run parallel with it, while eleven at right angles extend in straight
lines across the promontory from harbour to harbour. The Strada Eeale, with
the Strada Mercanti alongside of it, are, however, the most typical bits of the
capital, and the visitor who conscientiously tramps through either, with a peep
here and there up or down the less important transverse " strade," obtains a fail-
idea of the city of La Valette, whose statue stands with that of L'Isle Adam
over the Porta Eeale at the farther end of the street bearing that name. Here the
first barrier to an invasion from the landward side is met with in the shape of a
deep ditch hewn through the solid rock, right across the peninsula from the one
harbour to the other, cutting off if necessary the suburb of Floriana from the
town proper, though Floriana, with its rampart gardens, parade ground, and barracks,
is again protected on the inland aspect by other of the great fortifications which
circle the seashore everywhere.

However, the drawbridge is down ai present, and a long stream of people, civil
and military, are crossing and recrossing it, to and from the Strada Eeale. For
this street is the chief artery through which is ever circulating the placid current of
Valletteese life. Soldiers in the varied uniforms of the regiments represented in the
garrison are marching backwards and forwards, to or from parade, or to keep watch
on the ramparts, or are taking their pleasure afoot, or in the neat little covered
" carrozzellas " or cabs of the country, in which, unlike those of Gibraltar of a similar
build, a drive can be taken at the cost of the coin which, according to Sydney
Smith, was struck to enable a certain thrifty race to be generous. Sailors from
the war-ships in the Grand Harbour, and merchant seamen on a run ashore, are
utilising what time they can spare from the grog shops in the lower town to
see the sights of the place. Cabmen and carmen driving cars without sides, and
always rushing at the topmost speed of their little horses, scatter unwary pedestrians.
Native women, with that curious " faldetta," or one-sided hood to their black cloaks
which is as characteristic of Malta as the mantilla is of Spain, pass side by side

MALTA. 43

with English ladies in the latest of London fashions, or sturdy peasant women,
returning from market, get sadly in the way of the British nursemaid dividing her
attention in unequal proportions between her infantile charges and the guard
marching for " sentry-go " to the ramparts. Flocks of goats, their huge udders almost
touching the ground, are strolling about to be milked at the doors of customers.
Maltese labourers, brown little men, bare-footed, broad-shouldered, and muscular, in
the almost national dress of a Glengarry cap, cotton trousers, and flannel shirt, with
scarlet sash, coat over one arm, and little earrings, jostle the smart officers making
for the Union Club, or the noisy " globe-trotter " just landed from the steamer which
came to anchor an hour ago. A few snaky-eyed Hindoos in gaily embroidered caps
invite you to inspect their stock of ornamental wares, but except for an Arab or two
from Tunis, or a few hulking Turks from Tripoli with pilot jackets over their barracans,
the Strada Eeale of Valletta has little of that human picturesqueness imparted to the
Water-port Street of Gibraltar by the motley swarms of Spaniards, and Sicilians, and
negroes, and Moors, and English who fill it all periods between morning gun-fire to the
hour when the stranger is ousted from within the gates. Malta being a most religiously
Koman Catholic country, priests and robe -girded Carmelites are everywhere plentiful,
and all day long the worshippers entering and leaving the numerous churches, with the
eternal "jingle-jingle" of their bells, remind one of Kabelais's description of England in
his day. At every turning the visitor is accosted by whining beggars whose pertinacity
is only eqiialled by that of the boot -blacks and cabmen, who seem to fancy that the
final purpose of man in Malta is to ride in carrozzellas with shining shoes. In
Gibraltar we find a relief to the eye in the great rock towering overhead, the
tree-embosomed cottages nestling on its slopes, or the occasional clumps of palms in
the hollows. These are wanting to the chief strada of Valletta In architectural
beauty the two streets cannot, however, be compared. The Water-port is lined witli
houses, few of which are handsome and most of which are mean, while the scarcity
of space tends to crowd the narrow " ramps " as thickly as any lane in Valletta.
It is seldom that the shops are better than those of a petty English town, and
altogether the civil part of the rock fortresses has not lost the impress of having
been reared by a people with but little of the world's wealth to spare, and kept
alive by a population who have not a great deal to spend.

The main street of Valletta on the other hand is lined by good, and in most
cases by handsome, houses, frequently with little covered stone balconies which lend
a peculiar character to the buildings. The yellow limestone is also pleasant to look
upon, while the many palaces which the comfort-loving knights erected for their shelter,
impart to Valletta the appearance of a " city built by gentlemen, for gentlemen."
Here on the right is the pretty Opera House (open, in common with the private
theatres, on Sunday and Saturday alike), and on the other side of the road the

Til /: PICT UBESQ UE MEDITERRANEAN.

Auberge of the Language of Provence, now occupied by the Union Club. A little
farther on, in an open space shaded with trees, is the Church of St. John, on
which the knights lavished their riches, and still, notwithstanding the pillage of
(he Frencli troops in 1798, rich in vessels of gold and silver, crosses, pixes,
j.-uels, monuments, chivalric emblazonments, paintings, carveu stone and other
ecclesiastical embellishments, though like the wealthy order of military monks, whose
pride it was, the Church of St. John is ostentatiously plain on the outside. The
Auberge d'Auvergue, now the Courts of Justice, is on the other side of the street, and
hard by, a building which was formerly the Treasury of the Knights, the storehouse
into which was gathered the contributions of the Commanderies throughout Europe.
The Public Library, fronted by some trees a little way back from the road, is

General View of Valletta: Entrance to the Grand Harbour.

interesting from its containing the books of the Bailiff Louis de Tencin, the
Grand Master de Rohan (who erected it), and of many of the more lettered knights,
besides a good collection of the island antiquities. Close to it is the palace
of the Grand Master, now the residence of the Governor, or in part utilised as
Government offices. The courtyards, planted with oranges, euphorbias, hibiscus, and
other greenery, and the walls covered with Bougainvillia, have a delightfully cool
appearance to the pedestrian who enters from the hot street ; while the broad marble
staircase, the corridors lined with portraits and men-at-arms, and pictures representing
the warlike exploits of the knightly galleys, the armoury full of ancient weapons, and
majolica vases from the Pharmacy, and the numerous relics of the former rulers of
the island, are worthy of a long study by those interested in art or antiquity. The
Council Chamber also merits a visit, for there may be seen the priceless hangings
of Brussels tapestry. And last of all, the idlest of tourists is not likely to neglect
the Hall of St. Michael and St. George, the frescoes celebrating the famous

a.
3
o

m
e

tii
z

U
I

U
h
Z

III

Cfl

ic, THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

deeds of the Order of St. John, and the quaint clock in the interior court, which,
according to Maltese legend, was brought from Rhodes when that island was abandoned
after a resistance onl\ less glorious than a victory. For, as Charles V. exclaimed when
he heard of the surrender which led to -Malta becoming the home of the knights,
there has been nothing in the world so well lost as Rhodes." The main guard,
with its pompous Latin inscription recording how " Magme et iuvictae Britanuiae
Melitensium Amor et Europae vox Has insulas confirmant An. MDCCCXIV," is exactly
opposite the palace. But when the visitor sees the wealth of art which the knights
were forced to leave behind them, he is apt to be puzzled how the Maltese, who
contributed not one baiocco to buy it, or to build these palaces or fortifications,
could either through "Amor," or that necessity which knows no law, make them over
to us, or how " Magna et invicta Britannia " could accept without compensation
the property of the military monks, whose Order, bereft of wealth and influence, still
exists and claims with the acquiescence of at least one court to rank among the
sovereign Powers of Christendom. The knights are, however, still the greatest
personalities in Malta. We come upon them, their eight-pointed cross, and their
works at every step. Their ghosts still walk the highways. The names of the
Grand Masters are immortalised in the cities they founded and in the forts they

reared. Their portraits in the rude art of the Berlin lithographer hang on even the

i
walls of the hotels. Their ecclesiastical side is in evidence by the churches which

they reared, by the hagiological names which they gave to many of the streets, by
the saintly figures with which, in spite of three-fourths of a century of Protestant
rulers, still stand at the corners, and by the necessity which we have only recently
found to come to an understanding with the Pope as to the limits of the canon
law in this most faithful portion of his spiritual dominions.

On the other hand, the secular side of the Order is quite as prominent. Here,
for instance, after descending some steps which serve as a footpath, we come to
the Fort of St. Elmo, which terminates the Strada Eeale. But long before there
was any regular town on Monte Sceberras, when the capital was in the centre of
the island, this fortress on the point midway between the two harbours was a place
round which the tide of battle often swirled, when Paynim and Christian fought for
the mastery of the island. Of all these sieges the greatest is that of 1505, a year
before the town of Valletta was laid out. Twice previously, in 1546 and 1551, the
Turks had endeavoured to expel the knights, but failed to effect a landing. But in the
year mentioned Sultan Solyman The Magnificent, the same Solyman who thirty-four
years before had driven them from llhodes, determined to make one supreme effort
to dislodge the Order from their new home. The invading fleet consisted of a
hundred and thirty-eight vessels under the Renegade Piali, and an army of thirty-
three thousand men under the orders of Mustafa Pasha. These sea and land forces

MALTA. 47,

were soon afterwards increased by the arrival of two thousand five hundred resolute
old Corsairs brought from Algiers by Hassan Pasha, and eighteen ships containing
sixteen hundred men under the still more famous Dragut, the Pirate Chief of
Tripoli, who, by the fortunes of war, was in a few years later fated to toil as
a galley-slave in this very harbour. The siege lasted for nearly four months.
Every foot of ground was contested with heroic determination until it was evident
that Fort St. Elmo could no longer hold out. Then the knights, worn and
wounded, and reduced to a mere remnant of their number, received the viaticum
in the little castle chapel, and embracing each other went forth on the ramparts
to meet whatever lot was in store for them. But St. Angelo and Senglea, at the
end of the peninsula on which Isola is now built, held out until, on the arrival of
succour from Sicily, the Turks withdrew. Of the forty thousand men who on the
18th of May had sat down before the Castle, not ten thousand re-embarked ;
whilst of the eight or nine thousand defenders, barely six hundred were able
to join in the Te Deum of thanks for the successful termination of what was
one of the greatest struggles in ancient or modern times. Then it was that
"the most illustrious and most Reverend Lord, Brother John de la Valette," to
quote his titles inscribed over the Porta Reale, determined to lay out the new
city, so that, before twelve months passed, the primeval prophecy that there would
be a time when every foot of land in Monte Sceberras would be worth an ounce
of silver bade fair to come true. St. Elmo is still the chief of the island fortresses,
and the little chapel which the knights left to fall under the Turkish scimitars is
again in good preservation, after having been long forgotten under a pile of rubbrJi.
But though churchmen and soldiers, the masters of Malta were, if all tales are true,
a good deal more militaires than monks. Eye-witnesses describe the knights as they
sailed on a warlike expedition waving their hands to fair ladies on the shore.
In their albergos or barracks the " Languages " lived luxuriously, and though
duelling was strictly prohibited, there is a narrow street, the Strada Stretta,
running parallel with the Reale, in which this extremely unecclesiastical mode
of settling disputes was winked at. For by a pleasant fiction, any encounter
within its limits was regarded as simply a casual difficulty occasioned by two fiery
gentlemen accidentally jostling each other !

Turning into the Strada Mercanti, the San Giacomio of a former nomenclature,
we come upon more reminders of this picturesque brotherhood. For close by the
Hospital for Incurables is the site of their cemetery, and farther up the steep street
is the Military Hospital, which was founded by the Grand Master, Fra Luis de
VasconQelos. This infirmary, as an old writer tells us, was in former days "the
very glory of Malta." Every patient had two beds for change, and a closet with
lock and key to himself. No more than two people were put in one ward, and

Till-: PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

these were waited upon by the " Serving Brothers," their food being brought to
them on silver dishes, and everything else ordered with corresponding magnificence.
Nowadays, though scarcely so sumptuous, the hospital is still a noble institution, one
of the rooms, four hundred and eighty feet in length, being accounted the longest
in Europe. But there are uo silver dishes, and the nurses have ceased to be of
knightly rank. The University, an institution which turns out doctors with a celerity
which accounts for the number of them in the island, is an even less imposing
building than the public pawubroking establishment hard by, and neither is so note-
worthy as the market, which is remarkable from a literary point of view as being
perhaps the only edifice in Valletta the founder of which has been content to
inscribe his merits in the vulgar tongue. On the top of the hill, for we have been
climbing all the time, is a house with a fine marble doorway, which also is the relic
of the knights. For this building was the Castellania, or prison, and the pillory in
which prisoners did penance, and the little window from above which prisoners were
suspended by the hands, are still, with the huge hook to which the rope was
attached, to be seen by those who are curious in such disciplinary matters. But like
the rock-hewn dungeons in which the knights kept their two thousand galley-slaves, in
most cases Turks and Moors who had fallen in the way of their war-ships, which still
exist in the rear of the Dockyard Terrace, such reminders of a cruel age and a stern
Order are depressing to the wanderer in search of the picturesque. He prefers

M.-ii-of-ll'ar in the Gran,/ Harbour of I'allclta.

MALTA.

to look at the Auberge of the Language of Italy, where the Royal Engineers have
their quarters, or at the Palazzo Parisi, opposite (it is a livery stable at present),
where General Bonaparte resided during that brief stay in Malta which has served
ever since to make the French name abhorred in the island, or at the Auberge
de Castille, the noblest of all the knights' palaces, where the two scientific
corps hold their hospitable mess.

We have now tramped the entire length of the two chief longitudinal streets

of Malta, and have seen most of the build-
ings of much general interest. But in the
Strade Mezzodi and Britannica there are
many private dwellings of the best descrip-
tion, and even some public ones, like the

Auberge de France
(devoted to the
head of the Com-
missariat Depart-
ment), warrant ex-
amination from a
historical, if not
from an architec-
tural, point of
view. All of these
knightly hotels are
worthy of notice.
Most of them are
now appropriated
to the needs of
Government offices
or, like the Au-
berge d'Arragou (an Episcopal residence), to the housing of local dignitaries. But
whore tbe Auberge d'Allemagne once stood the collegiate church of St. Paul has
been built, and if there ever was an Auberge d'Angleterre (for the language of
England was suppressed when Henry VIII. confiscated the English Commanderies
and was early succeeded by that of Bavaria), the building which bore the name of
our country was levelled when the now theatre was built. It is nevertheless certain
that the Turcopolier or General of the Horse was, until the Reformation, selected
from the Language of England, just as that of Provence always furnished the Grand
Commander, France the Grand Hospitaller, Italy the Admiral, Arr;igon the Drapier,
Auvergne the Commander, Germany the Grand Bailiff, and Castile the Grand

Isold Point, Malta.

50 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Chancellor of the Sovereign Order, whose Grand Master held among other titles those
of Prince of Malta and Gozo.

We are now at the Upper Barracca, one of those arcades erected as
promenades hy the knights, and still the favourite walk of the citizens in the cool
of morning and evening. From this point also is obtained a good bird's-eye view of
Valletta and much of the neighbouring country, and if the visitor continues his walk
to St. Andrew's Bastion he may witness a panorama of both harbours ; one, which
the Maltese affirm (and we are not called upon to contradict them), is surpassed
by the Bosphorus alone. It is at all events the most picturesque of the island
views. There at a glance may be seen the two chief harbours alive with boats,
sailing vessels, and steamers, from the huge ironclad to the noisy little launch.
We then see that beside the main peninsula upon which Valletta is built, and which
divides the Quarantine from the Grand Harbour, there are several other headlands
projecting into these ports in addition to the island occupied by Fort Manoel and
the Lazaretto. These narrow peninsulas cut the havens into a host of subsidiary
basins, bays, and creeks, while Valletta itself has overflowed into the suburbs of
Floriana, Sliema, and St. Julian, and may by-and-by occupy Tasbiesch and Pieta ;
Bighi, where the Naval Hospital is situated, and Corradino, associated with gay memories
of the racecourse, and the more sombre ones which pertain to the cemeteries and
the prisons, all of which are centred in this quarter, where in former days the
knights had their horse-breeding establishments and their game preserves.

But there are certain suburbs of Valletta which no good Maltese will describe
by so humble a name. These are the " Three Cities " of Vittoriosa and Senglea,
built on the two peninsulas projecting into the Grand Harbour, and separated
by the Dockyard Creek, and Burmola or Cosspicua, stretching back from the shore.
These three " cities " are protected by the huge Firenzuola and Cottonera lines of
fortifications, and as Fort Angelo, the most ancient of the Maltese strongholds, and
Fort Ricasoli, recalling the name of its builder, are among their castles, they hold
their heads very high in Malta. Indeed, long before Valletta was thought of,
and when Notabile was seen to be unfitted for their purpose, the knights took
up their residence in Borgo or the Burgh, which, as the Statue of Victory still
standing announces, was dignified by the name of Citta Vittoriosa after their
victory over the Turks. Strada Antico Palazzo del Governatore recalls the old
Palace which once stood in this street, and indeed until 1571 this now poor town
was the seat of Government. Antique buildings, like the Nunnery of Santa Scolastica,
once a hospital, and the Inquisitor's Palace, now the quarters of the English garrison,
are witnesses to its fallen dignity. Burmola is also a city of old churches, and
Senglea, named after the Grand Master De la Sengle, though at present a place of
little consequence, contains plenty of architectural proofs that when its old name

MALTA. 51

of " Chersoneso," or the Peninsula, was changed to Isola, or "The Unconqnered,"
this " city," with Fort Michael to do its fighting, played in Malta militant a part
almost as important as it does nowadays when its dockyard and arsenal are its
chief titles to fame.

Turning our survey inland, we see from the Barracca a rolling country, whitish,
dry, and uninviting, dotted with white rocks projecting ahove the surface ; white
little villages, each with its church and walled fields ; and topping all, on the
summit of a rising ground, a town over which rise the spires of a cathedral. This
is Citta Vecchia, the " old city " as it was called when the capital was transferred
to Valletta, though the people round ahout still call it by the Saracenic name
of "Medina" (the town), the more modern designation of " Notabile " being due to
a complimentary remark of Alfonso the Magnanimous, King of Castile. No town in
Malta is more ancient. Here, we know from the famous oration of Cicero, that
Verres, Praetor of Sicily, established some manufactories for cotton goods, out of
which were made women's dresses of extraordinary magnificence, and here also
the same voluptuous ruler did a reprehensible amount of plundering from temples and
the " abodes of wealthy and honourable citizens." In their time-honoured capital the
Grand Masters had to be inaugurated, and in its cathedral every Bishop of Malta
must still be consecrated. But the glory of Notabile is its memories, for in all
Christendom there is no more silent city than the one towards which we creep by
means of the island railway which has of late years shortened the eight miles
between it and Valletta. Every rood, after leaving the cave-like station hollowed
out of the soft solid rock, and the tunnels under the fortifications, seems sleepier
and sleepier. Every few minutes we halt at a white-washed shed hard by a white-
washed " casal." And all the " casals " seem duplicates of each other. The white
streets of these villages are narrow, and the people few. But the church is invariably
disproportionately large, well built, and rich in decorations, while the shops in the
little square are much poorer than people who support so fine a church ought to
patronise. There is Hamrun, with its Apostolic Institute directed by Algerian
missionaries, Misada in the valley, and Birchircara. Casal Curmi, where the cattle
market is held, is seen in the distance, and at Lia and Balzan we are among the
orange and lemon gardens for which these villages are famous. The San Antonio
Palace, with its pleasant grounds, forms a relief to the eye. At Attard, " the village
of roses," the aqueduct which supplies Valletta with the water of Diar Handur
comes in sight, and then, at San Salvador, the train begins the steep pull which
ends at the base of the hill on which Notabile is built.

On this slope are little terraced fields and remains of what must at one time
have been formidable fortifications. But all is crumbling now. A few of the Valletta
merchants are taking advantage of the railway by building country houses, and some

Till-: PICTURESQUE MEDlTElillA NEA .Y.

of the old Maltese noltilily dim,' to the town associated with their quondam
glory. 13nt its decaying mansions with their mouldering coats of arms, palaces
appropriated to prosaic purposes, ramparts from which for ages the clash of arms has
departed, and streets silent except for the tread of the British soldiers stationed

there or the mumble
of the professional
beggar, tell a tale of
long-departed great-
ness. A statue of
Juno is embedded
in the gateway, and
in the shed - like
museum have been
collected a host of
Phoenician, Eoman,
and other remains
dug out of the soil
of the city. Maltese
boys pester us to
buy copper coins of
the knights which
are possibly honest,
and their parents
produce silver ones
which are probably
apocryphal.

In Notabile it-
self there is not,
however, a great deal
to look at, though
from the summit of
the Sanatorium, of
old the Courts of
Justice (and there

are dreadful dungeons underneath it still), a glance may be obtained over the entire
island. To the prosaic eye it looks rather dry to be the " Fior del Hondo," the
flower of the world, as the patriotic Maltese terms the land which he leaves with
regret and returns to with joy. There to the south lies Verdala Palace, and the
Boschetto, a grove in much request for picnic parties from Valletta, and beyond both,

C/iuirft of .SI. John, StraJa KcaU; I'alletla.

THE TOP OF THE GRAND HARBOUR, MALTA.

MALTA.

Cilia Vuchia, or Notabile : The Old Capital of Malta.

the Inquisitor's summer palace, close to where the sea spray is seen flying against the
rugged cliffs. The Bingemma hills, thick with Phoenician tombs, are seen to the west,
and if the pedestrian cares lie may visit the old rock fortress of Kala ta Bahria,
Irntarfa, where stood the temple of Proserpine, and Imtahleb near the sea-shore, where
in the season wild strawberries abound. Musta, with its huge domed church, is
prominent enough to the north-east, while with a glass it is not difficult to make
out Zabbar and Zeitun, Zurrico, Paola, and other villages of the south-eastern coast
scattered through a region where remains of the past are very plentiful. For here
are the ruins of the temples of Hagiar Khim and Mnaidra, rude prehistoric
monuments, and on the shore of the Marsa Scirocco (a bay into which the hot
wind of Africa blows direct), is a megalithic wall believed to be the last of the
temple of Melkarte, the Tyrian Hercules.

But in Notabile, far before Apollo and Proserpine, whose marble temples stood
here, before even the knights, whose three centuries of iron rule have a singular
fascination for the Maltese, there is a name very often in many mouths. And that
is " San Paolo." Saint Paul is in truth the great man of Malta, and the people make
very much of him. He is almost as popular a personage as Sir Thomas Maitland,
the autocratic " King Tom," of whose benevolent despotism and doughty deeds also
one is apt in time to get a little tired. Churches and streets and cathedrals are
dedicated to the Apostle of the Gentiles, and from the summit of the Sanatorium a
barefooted Maltese points out " the certain creek with a shore " in which he was
wrecked, the island of Salmun, on which there is a statue of him, and the church
erected in his honour. It is idle to hint to this pious son of Citta Vecchia that it is
doubtful whether Paul was ever wrecked in Malta at all, that not unlikely the scene

PICT UEESQ UE MEDITERRANEAN.

of that notable event was Melita, in the Gulf of Eagusa. Are there not hard by
serpents turned into stone, if no living serpents to bite anybody, and a miraculous
fountain which burst forth at the Apostle's bidding? And is not "the tempestuous
wind called Euroklydon " blowing at this very moment? And in the cathedral
we learn for the first time that Publius, on the site of wliose house it is built,
became the first Bishop of Malta. For is not his martyrdom sculptured in marble,
and painted on canvas ? And by-and-by we see the grotto in which St. Paul did
three months' penance, though the reason is not explained, and over it the chapel
raised to the memory of the converted Koman Governor, and not far away the
Catacombs in which the early Christians sheltered themselves, though whether
there is an underground passage from there to Valletta, as historians affirm, is a
point in which our barefooted commentator is not agreed.

All these are to him irreverent doubts. Notabile, with its cathedral, and
convents, and monasteries, its church of St. Publius, the " stone of which never
grows less," the seminary for priests, the Bishop's Palace and the Bishop's Hospital,
is no place for scepticism touching Saint Paul and his voyages. Any such unbeliefs
we had better carry elsewhere. The day is hot and the old city is somnolent, and
the talk is of the past. At the wicket gate of the little station at the hill foot the
engine is, at least, of the present. And as we slowly steam into Valletta, and emerge
into the busy street, we seem to have leapt in an hour from the Middle Ages
into the Nineteenth Century. The band is playing in the Palace Square, and the
politicians are in procession over some event with which we as seekers after the
picturesque are not concerned. But in Valletta we are in the land of living men.
Behind us is a city of the dead, and around it lie villages which seem never to
have been alive.

ROBERT BROWN.

The Road from Valletta to Citta I'ccchia.

Piazza Maggiorc, Rarenna.

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC: RAVENNA

TO BRINDISI.

HHRULY an uninteresting site that of Eavenna. All around one level plain ; not
indeed endless, for here and there against the horizon rise the shadowy outlines
of distant hills, the broken Apennines, the volcanic Euganeans, and the advanced
bastions of the Alps themselves. Still, though these, whether faintly blue in the
midday haze, or purple in the glory of the setting sun, are a wondrous relief to
the monotony of the scene, they are all very far away ; nearer there is nothing to
break the level of the horizon, except some structure reared by man and the
long green line of pine-wood, which shuts out Ravenna from the eastern sea. On the
plain itself trees are few, or at any rate small ; even houses and churches, in some
directions, are but rarely seen. The vast plain behind Ravenna is a repetition,
though on a larger scale, of the fen-land of England, with its dykes and its
bank-defended rivers ; the soil is saturated with moisture ; water stands a few inches
below the level of the ground ; in wet weather it may be spooned up with a
ladle rather than dug with a spade. The land is a great delta, built up by the
Po and many a minor stream from the spoils of the distant Alps and Apennines
in the shallow waters of the Adriatic. Time was, and that not so many
centuries since, when the tide ebbed and flowed where now the fields stand

56 '/'///; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

thick with corn ; the sea-gulls screamed and fished where now birds sing in
the branches of the pines. The story of Ravenna is one of the most remarkable
of the growth of deltas and of the silent changes which occur near the frontier of
land and sea. The town existed in the days of the Roman Republic, though it
was not then a place of much importance ; but Augustus selected it as the head-
quarters of the Adriatic fleet, improved its communications by land and water, and
constructed a new harbour at a place nearly three miles distant, which still retains
the name of Classis. The sea is now, roughly speaking, six miles away. At that
time Ravenna was more like Venice or Amsterdam at the present day. It was
intersected by canals in which the tide ebbed and flowed ; and so, though sometimes,
as it was said satirically, good wine was cheaper than good water, it was regarded as
such a healthy place that gladiators went there for training. A continuous suburb,
the nearer part of which bore the name of Cesarea, joined Classis to Ravenna ; and
for some three centuries it prospered greatly, and was considered to be so strong
in its defences, natural and artificial, that when the northern barbarians began to
threaten Italy, the Emperor Honorius, in the year 402, removed his court to Ravenna.
But year by year the land gained upon the sea ; the channels leading up to the quays
of Ravenna and the basins of Classis became more shallow ; streets replaced canals,

and cattle grazed where ships had ridden at anchor. The coast-line steadily

advanced eastwards ; Cesarea has been swept away, though a small column marks
the site of its grand old church, which was barbarously destroyed in the sixteenth
century. Of the shops and counting-houses of Classis nothing remains, except that
its church still rises in solitary grandeur among the marshes. Within the walls
of Ravenna Honorius was safe. Alaric the Goth, Genseric the Vandal, and the
usurper Ricimer, in turn sacked the imperial city, but Ravenna remained unconquered,
and did not open its gates "to the invader till the Western empire had fallen and
the diminutive successor of Romulus and Augustus had done homage to the warlike
chief of the Pomeranian Herules.

Then for a time Ravenna had its share in the common lot of Italy. Near the end
of the century it was surrendered to Theodoric the Ostrogoth, who made it his chief
residence and thus restored to it much of its ancient splendour. For some ninety
years it was the home of the Gothic kings, and then, after it had opened its gates to
Belisarius, became the abode of the exarch of the Emperor of the East. Under that
potentate it remained until the middle of the eighth century, when, after changing
masters once or twice, it was handed over to the Pope. For full four centuries it
formed part of the States of the Church. Then it was governed by rulers of its own,
until it passed, shortly before the middle of the fifteenth century, under the power of
Venice; but it was recovered by Julius II. in 1509, and, with one interval, continued
to be part of the Papal dominions until it was incorporated into the kingdom of Italy.

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC .

Ravenna is a town "absolutely unique in its character and interests; " it is "the
only town where we are met at every step by the works of Christian Emperors, Gothic
Kings, and Byzantine Exarchs. Of those strange and dark and unhappy centuries in
which the old world was shaped into the new, Ravenna has the monuments almost
wholly to herself. They all come within less than a hundred and fifty years of
each other, and yet they fall naturally into three periods. First corne the
monuments of the Christian Western Empire, the churches and tombs of the family
of Honorius. Next come the works of the Gothic kingdom, the churches and the
mausoleum of Theodoric. Next come the buildings, San Vitale among the foremost,
which are later than the recovery of Italy by Justinian. It is well that there
should be one spot from which the monuments of heathen Rome and mediaeval
Christendom are alike absent, and where every relic breathes of the strange and
almost forgotten time which comes between the two." We can see in Ravenna, still
but little changed, the churches in which the con-
temporaries of Gregory and of Augustine worshipped,
which had long ceased to be new in the days of
Bede the Venerable and Theodore of Canterbury.
Their mosaics bring before our eyes the dress and
the dwellings of the men of those ages ; of whose
sculptured sepulchres they are full. Nowhere else
can we enter so
fully into the
every - day reli-
gious thought of
times of which
in our own land
scarce any out-
ward visible trace
remains.

Yet, notwith-
standing its trea-
sures of architec-
ture and art, it

must be admitted that at first sight Ravenna is rather a disappointing town. Placed
on a plain as flat as a Cambridgeshire fen, it has neither beauty nor picturesqueness
of situation. Its houses are comparatively modern in aspect, and for the most part
thoroughly commonplace. It presents the aspect of a fairly thriving but rather sleepy
Italian town of moderate size. It does not admit of any comparison with Verona
or Padua, far less with Venice or Florence. The streets are not narrow enough

Church of St. Apottinare A'aoz'a.

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITE1WANEAN.

to be picturesque, nor wide enough to be splendid. The houses are unattractive,
and the gardens, which in some parts of the town occupy a considerable space,
are completely shut in by high walls; thus the buildings of chief interest are by no
means conspicuous; they are often huddled away in back lanes, and liave to be hunted
out, instead of forming centres for converging streets or being bordered by open
squares. Yet, more, the first sight of one of the churches which have made Ravenna
famous produces a sense of disappointment. Brick is almost the only material which
lias been employed in the construction of the exterior; and brick that has been exposed
to the weather for quite a dozen centuries and which from the first was not a
highly -finished product of the mason's art is apt to assume a rather rough and
shabby aspect. The architects do not seem to have cared for such external
adornment as can be obtained even with this material. The windows are small and
not numerous, the arches are not recessed ; in short, the exterior of the churches at
llaveuna has always been extremely plain. A portico at the western entrance, and
the lofty circular campaniles, are usually the only attempts to relieve the general
monotony of the design. The architects reserved themselves for the interior of
their buildings, and often, as we pass beneath the heavy curtain which falls over the
doorway, we stand almost startled by the sudden change from poverty to magnificence.
In this brief account it is useless to attempt a full description of the antiquarian
treasures which are embedded like gems in dross among the commonplace houses
of Kavenna. A few only of the more conspicuous or interesting can be mentioned.
In the centre of the town is the Piazza Maggiore, the one exception to the general
charge of unpicturesqueness which we have ventured against Ravenna. In form it
is a slightly irregular oblong. At the western end rise two granite columns crowned
by statues ; these were erected some four centuries since by the Venetians, but brought
in all probability from certain Roman ruins. On one side certain houses rest on an
ancient colonnade, a relic of olden times attributed by some to Theodoric, by others
to a yet earlier epoch, and the other buildings around the piazza are more varied in
age and design than is usual in Ravenna. Besides this, of the memorials not strictly
ecclesiastical, if we except the house once inhabited by Lord Byron and afterwards
by Garibaldi, there are but three to be noticed, one palace and two tombs. The
first is only a ruined fragment, a portion of a facade with a round-headed gateway
and a simple arcade above, but it was the dwelling of the famous Ostrogoth, Theodoric
the Great, "the barbarian conqueror who gave Italy thirty years of such prosperity
as she never saw for ages before or after." There is a difference as to the exact
date of the structure which remains, some good judges regarding it as rather later
than the era of Theodoric ; others, however, see no reason for doubt, and that
it formed a part of his palace is beyond question. It was practically made a ruin
by Charles the Great, who carried away the marbles and other valuables to adorn

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC. 59

his palace and church at Aachen. Theodoric's sepulchre, one of the two mentioned
above, lies among the gardens and vineyards a few hundred yards away from the
city walls. Happily it has come down to our days with but little injury, and
of itself would repay a long journey to Kavenna. It is wholly built of the pure
limestone of Dalmatia, almost worthy to be called a marble. In plan the building
is a decagon, the lower stage consisting of a massive arched wall, the upper being
a circular structure of less diameter. This is crowned by one block of Istrian
limestone nearly twelve yards across, which is wrought into a shallow flattened
dome. The upper storey is lighted by small windows and entered by a large door.
Formerly it was surrounded by a colonnade, which consisted of round-headed
arches, supported by light pillars resting on the wall of the lower storey ; these, which
must have greatly enriched the structure, have unfortunately perished. The actual
site of Theodoric's sarcophagus is a matter of doubt. Some assert that the square
top of the monolithic dome supported an urn in which his ashes were laid. It is,
however, hardly probable that a structure of this kind would be designed merely
for a pedestal. In any case the body would be placed in a sarcophagus, either
of marble, like that in which reposes the daughter of Honorius, or of red porphyry,
like that which may be seen built into the wall of Theodoric's palace, and is now
traditionally assigned as his resting place ; this would, in all probability, be placed
either in the lower or the upper chamber. Considering all the circumstances, I
should expect that the latter was the actual mortuary chapel. But wherever the
tomb was, it proved no lasting shelter. Theodoric was an Arian, and thus he was
obnoxious to the orthodox ; moreover, he was said to be meditating a persecution at
the time of his death, and beyond doubt he had begun his reign by one crime,
the assassination of Odoacer, and near its close had put to death two illustrious
men (one his own father-in-law) on a charge probably false. Thus little doubt was
felt as to his doom ; so, when the orthodox became masters, Theodoric's dust was
ejected and his tomb became Santa Maria della Eotonda. But this structure is
not only remarkable for its architecture. We may reasonably suppose that when it
was erected the floor of the basement storey would be at least on the level of the
ground. It is now ten or eleven feet below this ! So, during the period which has
elapsed since the completion of the monument, the soil has accumulated to this
' amount by repeated floodings.

The other tomb belongs to the first of the three periods mentioned by Professor
Freeman, and is older than that of Theodoric by more than three-quarters of a
century. This still contains the ashes of Galla Placidia, daughter of Honorius,
of her second husband, and of one son. No two buildings could well present
greater contrasts. This one, instead of Istrian limestone, is built of rough brick ;
externally it is a plain, almost mean, structure, but internally it is encrusted with

THE PICT UllKKQ (.'!: MEDITERRANEAN.

mosaics, still for the most part in excellent preservation; its sepulchres also are
inviolate. Galla Placidia was entombed in a marble sarcophagus, sitting, like Charles
the Great at Aachen, in her robes of state. The body could formerly be seen
through a hole in the sarcophagus, but in 1577 the robes were accidentally ignited
and it was thus reduced to ashes. Eight and left are placed the smaller tombs of her
Roman husband Constautius, and his Roman sou Valentinian. " Of all the Caesars

of East and West, till the
Imperial sceptre passed aw;i\
into Northern hands, they
alone lie in glory, every
one in his own house."
The urn of Trajan has dis-
appeared from his column ;
the ashes of Hadrian and
of the Antonines from the
mausoleum which is now
the Castle of St. Angelo ;
the "porphyry" sarcophagus

of Helena adorns the mu-

seum of the Vatican ; but
here, in Ravenna, the family
of Theodosius the Great has
been left to rest in peace.

The Mausoleum, which
now bears the name of St.
Nazario e Celso, was built
shortly after the death of
Galla Placidia, and most
probably was completed be-
fore the year 450. In plan it is a Latin cross, forty-nine by forty-one feet, with a low
central dome. The ceiling and the walls above the marble dado are covered with
mosaics, figures, and arabesques in gold and in various tints on a ground of rich
ultramarine blue ; the colour harmony is often excellent, and the designs are
frequently very good ; for instance, it would be difficult to surpass the figure of
the Good Shepherd which is over the entrance door ; coarse as the material
necessarily is, the artist has succeeded in giving to the face an expression of
singular tenderness. The sarcophagus of Galla is massive rather than handsome,
and is inferior in execution to many others in Ravenna. It is placed at the head
of the cross opposite the entrance. Those also of her son and Imsband are not

Street in Ravenna,

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC.

remarkable ; each occupies an arm of the cross. Built into the wall, on either
side of the entrance, are two other tombs ; one contains the body of Valeutinian's
tutor, the other that of the instructor of his sister Honoria. But in front of the
sarcophagus of Galla stands a very fine altar of transparent oriental alabaster. It
was removed to this place from the neighbouring church of San Vitale, but is older
than the sixth century.

Of the first architectural period, that of the Christian emperors, there are but

Mausoleum of (Jalla Placidia..

few other buildings in Ravenna. Some parts, especially the columns of the church
of St. Giovanni Battista, belong to that erected by Galla Placidia, but the greater
portion is of more recent date. The baptistry of the cathedral was built a few
years after her death, and still remains in excellent preservation. Externally, like
her monument, it is a simple brick structure, but is octagonal in form. Internally
it is adorned with slabs and columns of cipollino marble and encrusted with
mosaics which are hardly less beautiful than those in the mausoleum of Galla. In
the dome the baptism of Christ is depicted, at which the Jordan, personified as
a river god, is an onlooker ; a curious survival of pagan symbolism in Christian art,
though by no means the only instance of this kind, for old superstitions and errors
die hard, and nineteen centuries have not wholly purged Christianity from the

G-2 THE PICTI 1 I 'I-S< I )I'J-: MEDITEEEANEAN.

taints of earlier creeds. Below there is a band of mosaics representing structural
work, which, as usual, is the least satisfactory part of the whole design; the part
beneath this is mostly occupied by scroll-work or arabesque patterns, which often are
wonderfully graceful. Here also the same rich blue is largely employed in the
grounding, with cubes of gold, green, grey, white, red, and other colours. In the
middle stands the huge marble bath, adorned with slabs of porphyry, in which the baptised
were immersed. The original cathedral was earlier by some years than this baptistry,
but it was unfortunately rebuilt in the latter part of the seventeenth century. The
present structure is a fair but uninteresting specimen of Renaissance work ; but it
retains the ancient columns, besides some sarcophagi and other curious relics of olden
times. The original round campanile also remains, but this probably is not earlier,
and perhaps is even later, than the days of the exarchs. But the adjoining palace
of the archbishop still contains a very precious remnant of the earliest period, a
little chapel which, as usual, is lined with marble and mosaics, and is in excellent
preservation. This also was completed by the year 450, and so is practically
contemporaneous 'with the mausoleum, of Galla Placidia.

Of the next period it will suffice to describe one church ; St. Apollinare
Nuovo, built by Theodoric, about the year 500. The campanile, as is almost
invariably the case in Eavenna, is round, and its date uncertain. While some
authorities regard these towers, which are usually detacb'ed, as contemporaneous
with the churches (that is, in the more important cases, as works of the fifth and
sixth centuries), others consider them to be later than the ninth century, Professor
Freeman even saying, " We shall not dispute if any one assign them to the eleventh
and twelfth." Certainly there is more elegance in the design and finish in
execution than appear in the massive walls and plain architecture of the churches.
Still, the capitals in the naves of the latter indicate that the architects of the
earlier period were by no means insensible to beauty, and it seems strange that
these additions should be so general.

Of the date of the church, however, there can be no doubt, though the
mosaics which are its chief glory are considered to be, at any rate in great part,
a little later than the days of Theodoric. It is an oblong basilica, with large
central nave and wide aisles, the walls of the former being supported by arches,
which spring from impost blocks, resting on richly carved capitals of rather classic
pattern, supported by pillars of cipollino marble. At the eastern end, as usual, there
is a great apse ; but in this case a rectangular compartment intervenes between the
large eastern arch and the commencement of the apse, thus forming an ordinary
chancel, a feature very rare in buildings of this early date. In one of the chapels
is a remarkable mosaic portrait of Justinian, together with an ancient episcopal
throne and some curious fragments of earlier structures, but those are not the most

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC. 63

marvellous feature in St. Apollinare Nuovo. Beneath the clerestory and above the
arches on either side, where in a more modern church we should expect to find a
triforium, runs a continuous hand of mosaics depicting a procession of saintly figures,
probably seven or eight feet high. On the south side are men, on the north women;
the one proceeding from a mass of buildings representing the city of Ravenna, with
the church of St. Vitale and the palace of Theodoric ; the other from the suburb
of Classis, with its harbour. At the head of the latter company we find the three
wise men of the East bringing gifts to the infant Saviour, who is seated on
his mother's knee, with his hand raised in the attitude of benediction, two angels
standing on either side. He also appears, of full age, with the same attendants, at
the head of the other procession. The women wear white robes adorned with gold,
the men are mostly vested in an under-garment of white with purple stripes, and
an upper robe of white or brown. Each carries a crown, and between each is a
palm-tree. The expression of the faces is remarkably varied ; but it is always
tender and placid. Seldom have I seen anything more impressive than these grand
processions of glorified figures which for some thirteen centuries have looked down
with calm faces and peaceful eyes on the worshippers below as they came and went,
at last to their own place. Through times of festivity or of mourning, of triumph
or of defeat, insensible alike to the sound of joy or the noise of war in the gate,
the pictured forms of those who had fought the good fight have stood, fit emblems
of the eternal peace which ends at last the hurly-burly of this transitory life.

Yet one other church in Ravenna must be noticed, that dedicated to St. Vitale,
which was begun the year after the death of Theodoric and consecrated in 547, so
that in the main it may be regarded as representative of the third period, that of the
Byzantine Exarchs. Though it has suffered much of late from restorers, it is a very
noble and still a very interesting structure. It is often said to be an imitation of
Justinian's church of Sta. Sophia, though in reality it is slightly the older of the
two. But Fergusson and Freeman both agree in regarding it as modelled on a Roman,
not on a Byzantine, type. The plan is a little complicated, but the church in the
main is externally an octagon, within which is a central circular drum supporting
a dome, the former being a hundred and ten feet, the latter fifty feet, in diameter.
The most remarkable feature is the internal apses which are applied to each of
the great arches supporting the drum, excepting that which leads to the sacrarium.
These apses are divided into two stages, the upper one opening into the great gallery
which forms the upper storey of the octagonal ambulatory. These are intended to
help in resisting the outward thrust of the dome, which, in order to diminish the
pressure, is constructed of hollow earthenware jars. The capitals of some of the
columns are marvels of rich design and elaborate execution, and the church is fi;ll
of interesting relics, not the least among these being the superb mosaics of the

Ill

/'///; /'/( 'TURE8QUE MEDITERRANEAN.

choir, in which -lustiniiin and his consort Theodora arc represented in the act of
offering gifts. Tliere can he little doubt that these are actual, though necessarily
rather rough, portraits of these noted and notorious personages.

But we must linger no longer within the walls of Itavenna, though the half of
its wonders has hardly yet been told. The sarcophagi alone, belonging to the earlier
centuries of Christian art, might well detain the antiquary for days, and the mosaics

incidentally throw a flood of light
on many questions which are
agitating the Church of England
at the present day ; but there is
one tomb which everyone goes to
see, and then almost wishes he
had left unvisited. This is the
tomb of Dante, who died at
Ravenna. It is "a little cupola
more neat than solemn" (in fact,
rather mean, and anything but
impressive in design), which was
erected full a century and a half
after the poet's death, and looks,
after more than one restoration,
still more modern. It has a
stuccoed, shoddy aspect, more
appropriate to the memorial of
some eighteenth - century mayor
of Ravenna than of one of the
greatest among the poets and the
sons of Italy.

No one, however, will leave
Ravenna without making at least
one excursion to visit the church
of St. Apollinare in Classe and the famous pine-forest. On the way to the former
we learn thoroughly to appreciate the scenery of the delta and the changes
which nineteen centuries have effected. But a paragraph from Mr. T. A. Trollope's
description so accurately conveys my own impressions that I shall make no excuse
for quoting it. After speaking of the trees and gardens round the city, which, when
over-topped by the campaniles and occasional domes, form a picture not without a
certain beauty, he continues :

'Very soon the trees cease, and there are no more hedgerows. Large, flat

Tomb of JJan/c.

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC.

The Baptistry, Ravenna.

fields, imperfectly covered with coarse, rank grass, and divided by numerous branches
of streams, all more or less dyked to save the land from complete inundation, succeed.
The road is a causeway, raised above the level of the surrounding district ; and
presently a lutge, lofty bank is seen traversing the desolate scene for miles, and
stretching away towards the shore of the neighbouring Adriatic. This is the dyke
which contains the sulkily torpid but dangerous Montone. Gradually, as the traveller
proceeds, the scene grows worse and worse. Soon the only kind of cultivation to
be seen from the road consists of rice-grounds, looking like, what in truth they are,
poisonous swamps. Then come swamps pure and simple (too bad perhaps to be
turned into rice-grounds), or rather, simply swamps impure, for a stench at most
times of the year comes from them, like a warning of their pestilential nature and
their unfitness for the sojourn of man. A scene of more utter desolation it is hardly
possible to meet with in such close neighbourhood to a living city."

Less than a mile beyond the gate from which we have emerged, we pass a
little column, the last indication of the ancient suburb of Cesarea. Some two miles
away from the road another landmark of ancient history rises conspicuously above the
marshes on the left. This is the church of St. Maria in Porto Fuori, a basilica
erected by a Bishop of Kavenna at the end of the eleventh century. Even at this
distance the singular form of the campanile cannot fail to attract notice, as the lower

66 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

part seems so much ruder and more massive than the upper one. The former, in
fact, is a portion of a much older building, an ancient tower which is believed
to have been a lighthouse; if so, it must mark the position of one of the ancient
harbours of Ravenna.

The church of St. Apollinare in Classe, in its strange contrast between the
present and the past, in its lonely solitude ou the wide plain, is almost as impressive
as the Temples of Psestum. This fever-stricken fen once a busy sea-port town? Yes,
for how else should so grand a pile have been built, where only a few peasants could
be gathered to worship, or perchance once or twice in a year pilgrims could come
from the city to venerate the spot where one of its earliest martyrs received his crown ?
Externally the basilica, like those in Kavenua, is very plain, though a certain relief is
given to the walls by a series of plain shallow arches, which are occasionally pierced
for windows; these, as is common in the churches of Italy, being less conspicuous
features than in those of England. The material, of course, is brick, and there is,
as usual, a round campanile separate from the church. This, from some points of
view, forms with it a pleasing group. At the western end there is a covered porch, also
a common feature, but here it is larger than usual, and extends even beyond the wails
of the nave so as to mask its western end. This, however, is so ruinous and so much

injured by repeated patching that it is difficult to determine what was the original

design. But the interior, as in the other church dedicated to the same saint, effaces
all memory of the poverty of the exterior. The two in their main outlines are very
similar, but this is on a grander scale. We have not here, indeed, those superb
processions of figures in mosaic above the arches of the nave ; their place is taken,
and inadequately, by a series of medallions containing portraits of bishops and
archbishops of Ravenna ; but we find the usual plan of nave and aisles, the usual
colonnades of splendid cipolliuo pillars, the usual carved capitals and impost blocks
from which the arches spring, the simple clerestory and the open roofs. But there
is a difference at the eastern end ; here the great arch, as was the more ancient
fashion, opens at once into an apse, and a flight of steps leads up to the high altar ;
for beneath this is a crypt in which the relics of St. Apollinaris the Martyr were
enshrined. Its floor is a yard or so below that of the church, which, however, has
been raised as usual, so that the bases of the columns are partially concealed. The
church seems to me to gain rather than to lose in grandeur by the absence of the
space between the apse and the great choir-arch, and the effect is certainly enhanced
by the ascent to the high altar. When the harbours of Classis were busy, when its
merchants and work-folk came hither in throngs, this basilica must have been a grand
sight. Now it is empty, desolate, and damp, a green conferva stains the walls,
stagnant water covers the floor of the crypt. It is a vast empty temple, priests and
worshippers alike gone, yet perhaps all the more impressive, though very saddening,

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC. 67

in its loneliness. I count St. Apollinare in Classe one of the grandest churches that
I have ever seen. Perhaps no one takes greater delight than myself in the exquisite
grace, the ceaseless and harmonious combinations, and the ever-changing beauty of
the cathedrals of England and of France, with their transepts and side-chapels, their
clustered shafts and vaulted roofs, the intricate tracery of their windows, and the
richness of their long arcades ; in a word, in the so-called Gothic buildings, the legacy
of the later Middle Ages ; yet I never enter one of these grand basilicas, memorials
of the earlier centuries of the Christian Church, without a sense of solemn awe.
The later Romanesque work, Norman as we call it, produces a similar effect, but
St. Apollinare differs from Norwich Cathedral as it does from Salisbury. To compare
art with nature, in Lincoln or in Westminster, in Amiens or in Eheims, feelings
are prodiiced like those raised by the outlook from the western slopes of the Malvern
Hills, or from the folds of the Apennines above the valley of the Arno ; while in
the ancient basilicas of Ravenna and of Rome I stand overpowered as in view of
the crags of the Matterhoru or the glaciers of Mont Blanc.

As nineteenth century architects do not seem capable of originality except in
ugliness, and for ecclesiastical purposes restrict themselves to the reproductions of
buildings which are more suitable for a ritual, which indeed has a significance in
an unreformed church, but is only a survival, not always beneficial, in our own,
one cannot help wishing that they would attempt to copy some of these earlier
structures. They would satisfy the most rigid Protestant, for in them one can both
see and hear. They would satisfy the most utilitarian spirit, for so little space is
wasted and all decoration contributes to the general effect. They are adapted also
for mosaics and work in marble, the best forms of decoration in an English climate,
and especially in our smoky towns. They ought to satisfy the most Catholic
aspirations, for they preserve the ecclesiastical arrangements of ages when even the
"use of Sarurn " w r as unknown, and anterior even to the separation of the Eastern
and Western churches.

But all the while, as we are on our way to St. Apollinare, indeed in every
outlook from the towers of Ravenna, our eyes have been attracted by one constant
feature, that long, low line of greenwood which shuts out the gleaming waters of the
Adriatic. North and south it stretches as far as we can see, a welcome relief,
though itself slightly monotonous, to the greater monotony of the level fen-land.
This is the ancient Pinetum, La Pineta, the great pine forest, the " immemorial
wood" which is inseparable in thought from Ravenna, which is linked with memories
of Dante and Boccaccio, of Dryden and of Byron.

It is a singular contrast to pass from the malarious swamps to the pure,
scented odours of the forest, where the fever-stricken peasants can breathe for
a while a fresher air, as they gather those huge piles of sticks beneath the burden

F<AVENNA: 1, APPROACH TO THE CITY; 2, CATHEDRAL AND BAPTISTRY;

3, PALACE OF THEODOR1C.

IN THE PINE FOREST, RAVENNA.

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC.

Coiiuuchio.

of which we meet them staggering, as a " moving wood," hut for the most part
home by women, doth come in single file along the hanks of the canals. No
change could he greater. The soil is a clean sand, sometimes, as at the south,
containing small pebbles ; the surface is irregular, the ground is thickly covered
with forest herbage and brushwood, junipers and thorny plants. The stone-pines,
as every one knows who has visited Italy, are very like our Scotch firs ; there
is the same crown of spreading branches, though of a less sombre green, the
same straight bare boles of ruddy tint. Again and again one's thoughts are
carried back from the Adriatic shore to the fir- woods of Surrey, and it must be
admitted that Charles Kingsley's winter garden does not suffer by the comparison,
for he showed me grander trees in the woods of Eversley than I found in the
forests of Eavenna.

What is the age of this " immemorial wood " we do not know. It begins at
Cervia, about fifteen miles south of Kavenna, and extends northward, after a
break of a few furlongs, it is said, for some five-and-twenty miles, the breadth
varying from one to three miles. The site, where I have seen it, is evidently
either a mass of blown sand, hardly high enough to be termed a line of dunes,
or an ancient " bar " elevated above the sea by an upward movement of the coast.
But of any change in the latter direction we have no proof in the times covered by
written history. We should expect that, as the forest fringes the shore, the "Adrian
wave flowed over " its site in the days of Theodoric, but we find a mention of its
existence at that time. Not improbably the difficulty may be explained by looking
farther north ; there, in the neighbourhood of Venice, we find that the mainland is
bordered by a broad zone of islands. Eavenna may have been founded, like the other
city, upon the inner and more thickly congregated members of the group, which,
however, in the days of Augustus were no longer, as is still the case at Venice,
parted from the mainland by a wide lagoon. Thus Eavenna has been incorporated

70 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

with the delta by a process which is still going on in the neighbourhood of Mestre,
and the pine-woods may have first sprung up many centuries since on the drifted
sand upon the seaward margin of a chain of islands, similar to that which still
extends northward from the old town of Chioggia up to and beyond the Lido.

North of Ravenna is Comacchio, a curious old town, curiously situated. It
stands on an island, almost connected with a strip of land which prolongs the
regular line of the coast from the mouths of the Savio and Eonco till the Po
discharges its waters through more than one channel to the sea and has thus
constructed a great projecting angle of muddy land. But on the western side of
this sandy strip is a vast expanse of water, the lagoons of Comacchio, a repetition
on a yet larger scale of the more familiar lagoons of Venice. There is now but
one communication between these and the Adriatic. They are interrupted by narrow
islands, mud-banks rising above the waters, on one of which the town is built. In
parts, a map of them looks almost like a spider's web. The sketch shows the
approach to Comacchio along one of these, where road and canal run parallel and
form one long isthmus. The lagoons are quite shallow, generally not more than six
feet deep, but their fisheries have been noted since the Middle Ages, and still furnish
numbers of eels and of grey mullet. Nets, ingeniously contrived, prevent the fish
from escaping seawards, and make the lagoons one vast preserve.

Comacchio itself is an old-world spot, for its fisheries are named by Tasso and
Ariosto, but it makes no figure in history. Half cut off as it is from the world, it
has retained its peculiar habits of life, and through all political changes, even when
fortified and held by an Austrian garrison, has remained essentially a towoi of
fishermen. This occupation, and the manufacture of salt, gives employment to its
inhabitants as well as to those of the neighbouring islets ; the commune numbering,
it is said, about nine thousand in all. Strange to say, the district is said to be
healthy ; these delta lands only becoming malarious when the sea ceases to flow in
their channels and the district becomes a fresh-water marsh.

The annexed group of sketches gives a good idea of this picturesque town, which,
however, lends itself to the pencil more than to the pen, for it has no story to
tell and no special attraction for the visitor ; it is quaint and picturesque, with its
towers and campaniles, its gateways and its churches. Some of the last are old
and interesting, but of no exceptional mark. It has also an old castle, at one
end of the island, but this has been dismantled ; at the other end is a Capuchin
convent. Its fishing-boats are also picturesque, but that is the case everywhere in
these lagoons.

Rimini, to the south of Ravenna, consists of an old town and a new ; the former-
lying about a mile from the sea, the latter growing up as a smart suburb by the
water-side, frequented in summer by bathers. It ought to prosper, for Rimini is

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC. 71

the first accessible spot south of Venice which presents the slightest attraction to
anyone but an antiquarian, and, even at the latter, one must go some distance to
get clear of city sewage or near to the open sea. True, the actual situation of
Kimini is not particularly attractive, but the same might be said of such favourite
resorts as Blackpool or of Southport in our own land. There is, however, a good
beach, and though the shore is still flat, the hill country is now drawing nearer
to the sea, and the Apennines with their broken outlines form a grand background
to the rich lowland plain. One of the spurs of this range is the site of a
curious survival of olden days, the republic of San Marino, noted as the smallest
in the world.

The old town of Eimini is full of interest, and of beggars. If prizes were
given for the human gadfly, and due allowance made for its size, Kimini would
probably take the first place among the towns on the western Adriatic ; and this
is saying a good deal. In early times it must have been a town of considerable
defensive strength, notwithstanding the level site, for on either side a river flows
into the sea. Kimini is a place of great antiquity, for it existed long before
the surrounding country came under the power of Koine. The Umbrians are said
to have been its founders ; next it became an Etruscan town ; then the invading
Senones, after crossing the Alps and the whole breadth of northern Italy, settled
down here upon the Adriatic shore and held their own for more than a century.
It was from this territory, if not from this very town, that Brennus led the great
expedition to Kome, when he sacked the city and got his price for leaving the
Capitol in peace. But in the course of time the Koman took his revenge and
became master of Ariminum. Since then its history has not been altogether one
of undisturbed tranquillity. It was sacked by Sulla; its citizens looked on at
Julius Caesar's entry, after he had crossed the Rubicon. The stone from which he
made a speech to his troops remains to this day, provided the visitor has faith
enough to believe the local tradition. In olden times, Rimini, like many another
town in the days of the "decline and fall," had its troubles; but emerged from
them as an independent commune. Early in the thirteenth century came the rise
of the Malatesta family, and before the middle of it they had become practically
independent rulers. The distinctive characteristic of this family appears to have
been an abundance of talent and a deficiency of virtue, so that, as a rule, they lived
up to their name. One family tragedy, the guilty love and death of Francesca,
told in the " Inferno " of Dante, has become immortal. She was a daughter
of a magnate of Ravenna, given in marriage, for political reasons, to Giovanni
the Lame, son of Malatesta, who at that time ruled Rimini. Giovanni, though
a brave soldier, was deformed in person and ill-favoured in face. But, unhappily,
his brother Paolo was so great a contrast as to be called The Handsome.

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

According
to Boccac-
cio, Gio-
vanni was
imprudent
enough to
send his
brother in-
stead of
going him-
self to fetch home
Ids bride. Be that
as it may, the lady could not
help making comparisons, and
the result was disastrous. As
Dante relates the tale, the lady

HI id her brother-in-law took to conning
love stories together, and so as they

Head one day for pastime, seated nigh,
Of Lancilot, how love enchained him too,"

precept was illustrated by practice, and
oral teaching by experimental demonstra-
tion. The usual results were followed
by the penalty which in those days was
not unfrequent ; for the husband's sus-
picions were aroused, he surprised the
guilty pair in company, and killed them
both out of hand.

The Castle of the Malatestas must
have been an attractive residence in olden
time, for it is parted from the houses of
the town by an open green, and rests
upon the outer wall, looking out across

the plain towards
the Apennines.
It is now sadly
dilapidated,
and patched
with shab-
by modern
work; but
the old

Sketches at CoinaccJiio.

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC.

brick towers and the main features of the building still remain, a memorial of " dark
days of history," which is almost as picturesque as it is interesting. The contrast
between its present decadence and the unchanged beauty of the distant view seems
to be iii harmony with the lines with which the home of the Malatestas has been
inseparably coupled :

" Nessun maggior dolore
Che recordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria."

At the present time the Piazzo Giuglio Cesare is, on the whole, the most
attractive part of Rimini.
Here that general addressed
his troops, and the stone
which served as his rostrum
is still to be seen ! But this
place was the scene of other
efforts of oratory. There is
also a tiny chapel standing
in the open part of the
piazza ; and not far away,
by a canal, is a second one.
These commemorate inci-
dents in the life of St.
Anthony of Padua. He
came to preach to the
people of Rimini, but they
turned a deaf ear to his
exhortation ; so he went to
the bank of the canal and
addressed the fishes, who
thronged up to listen as if he were casting bread on the waters in an actual instead
of a figurative sense. The Piazza is a picturesque place ; in plan it is roughly a
segment of a circle. Many of the houses are quaint and old-fashioned, some of
them resting on an arcade, part of which incorporates some very ancient material,
for the capitals appear to be early Romanesque, if not Roman work.

The churches iu Rimini are not particularly noteworthy, except that the Duomo
is a curious instance of an architectural transformation. It was originally built of
brick and in the " Italian Gothic " style, but in the middle of the fifteenth century
one of the Malatestas determined to convert it into a temple worthy of the grandeur
of his house, so he set about it in a characteristic fashion, concealing original
meanness under a mask of outward splendour. In effect he put the old brick church

Arch of Augustus, Rimini.

74 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

into a new stone case, by building about its walls a sumptuous structure in the style
of the Renaissance. It is thus like a shabby box inside a smart cover, and the one
is seen through the openings in the other. The old west front is completely masked,
though Malatesta's facade, with its great window, still remains unfinished. The side
walls are built of grand blocks of white marble, and adorned with slabs of " porphyry,"
but through the great arches one could touch the rough brick of the old building,
and its windows still light the interior. This, like the exterior, is plain but grandiose
in design, and the whole, if completed, would have formed an apt monument to a
family which, after the Christian era, should have seemed rather an anachronism.

But if Rimini lias little to interest us in its so-called Christian architecture, it
has preserved two fine monuments of its Pagan days. The river Marecchia is still
crossed by a noble Roman bridge, built of pale grey limestone. It has five arches,
the three in the middle being slightly larger than the other two, and having a span of
about eight yards. The spaces between the arches are relieved by shallow niches,
hardly more than recessed panels. Here and there new stones have been inserted,
but on the whole the bridge is in good preservation. At the opposite end of the
main street, the Corso d'Augusto, which no doubt follows the same lines as the
original Roman thoroughfare, is another relic of ancient days, the triumphal arch
which was erected in honour of Augustus. As the illustration shows, it is a plain but
effective stone structure, the attic of which has been much injured, the forked brick
battlements dating probably from the sixteenth century.

Beyond Rimini the lower hills approach the coast, and the scenery is varied and
pretty. We pass Pesaro, an old fortified town, noted in modern times as the birth-
place of Rossini ; then Fano, an ancient place, for it boasts a triumphal arch as old
as the days of Augustus ; and is still picturesque, with its moat and walls of rough
brick, and its tall campaniles ; and, lastly, Sinigaglia, which gave birth to Pio Nono.
This, too, has its attractions : massive houses with pantile roofs, low church towers,
remnants of old walls, with machicolated battlements, make up more than one
pleasant picture. Between the two towns the Metaurus comes down to the sea, flowing
between steep banks of pale-coloured mud, through a wide and richly-tilled valley,
which runs up into the hills and is lost among the distant Apennines. On its
banks the fate of Rome and Carthage hung in suspense. Quid debeas, Roma,
Neronibus, Testis Metanrum fiumen et Hasdrubal Devictus ! South of Sinigaglia the
coast is flat ; but low hills, richly cultivated, are not far away, and these are backed
by the Apennines, while the fortified headlands and harbour of Ancona soon become
features in the outlook no less picturesque than prominent.

Ancona (the Doric Ankon, the Elbow) occupies a situation more striking than
that of any other town of importance on the western coast of the Adriatic. The
long strip of lowland, which for many a mile has parted the Apennines from the

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC.

sea, here comes to an end, and their spurs descend steeply to the water's edge. The
town climbs the slopes and occupies a shelving valley, sheltered by two prominent
headlands which guard the harbour, and of which the summits are crowned by its
defences. Northward the hills are shady with woods, dotted with white or pink
houses and villages. Southward, though this can only be seen from some commanding
knoll, the Apennines continue to border the sea, a ridgy mass backed in the far
distance by
bolder and more
lofty summits,
the higher peaks
of the main
range. The for-
mer, except here
and there for a
grove of pines
clothing some
slopes too rough
for the husband-
man, are richly
cultivated, and
planted c o m -
monly with the
mulberry and
the olive tree,
the fig and the
vine ; but here
and there these
give place to

fields of grain, until at last the ground descends in steep slopes of rough herbage
and grey crags of rock to the sparkling waters of the Adriatic. Villages are frequent,
pleasantly diversifying the colouring ; cctstelli are not rare, telling of old times, not
always good, when marauders by land, and, yet more, rovers from the sea, had to
be kept at bay. Now they are grey with age and sometimes ruinous, mute but
eloquent witnesses that in some things there have been changes for the better.
But millennial times have not yet come, for as we cast our eyes towards Ancona
bastions and ravelins in plenty indicate that " he still keeps best who hath the
power."

The history of Ancona, in fact, has not always been a record of peace.
Thirteen centuries ago it was sacked by the Lombards, and at a later date by the

AncQna.

'/'///; I'HJTUltEKQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

The Harbour, Brindisi.

Saracens. Full seven hundred years ago it was besieged ' by the allies of Frederick
Barbarossa, and suffered from famine even more than from war, and so late as
1809 it was bombarded by the Austrians.

It is a very old town, for it was founded by Doric Greeks from Syracuse
nearly four centuries before the Christian era ; then it became a Roman colony,
and rose to be a port of note, the Liverpool of the Empire. It is now a large and
growing city, consisting of an old quarter, which borders the harbour and clusters
on the slopes of its two guardian headlands, Monte Ciriaco and Monte Conero ; and
of a new quarter, which occupies the broad valley between them, and in another
direction fringes the shore up to the railway station.

The new quarter resembles that in any other developing Italian town ; wide
streets, tall houses, smart shops, a large piazza, an aspect more sumptuous than
picturesque. The old quarter has narrow, winding, often steep streets ; houses
thickly crowded, irregular in plan, in architecture, in material. It is not, indeed, a
town specially attractive to the artist, but here and there he may be arrested by
some remnant of old but hardly of mediaeval times, such as an ornate door or
perhaps a house-front. Ancona, indeed, possesses two or three buildings of
exceptional interest, but except for these it attracts rather as a whole than in its
details. Perhaps one of the best points of view is from the neighbourhood of the
arch erected by Pope Clement XII., a heavy structure worthy of its age. The waters

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC.

of the harbour sparkle under the protection of Trajan's Mole, which runs out from
the headland of Monte Ciriaco, itself a promontory, the " elbow " of hill which
gave at once a harbour and a name to the place. Up its steep slopes the houses
of Ancona are clustered, and the first bare bluff is crowned by the old cathedral
with its stumpy campanile. On yet higher ground, cut off by a slight depression,
is a fort ; from this the eye travels across the wide valley occupied by modern
Ancona, much of which, however, is hidden by the broken slopes of the nearer
and higher hill, Monte Conero. This
is one mass of fortifications, which
climb its slopes and finally centre on
the citadel. Close at hand, in one
corner of the harbour, is the Lazaretto,
an old polygonal half-fortified building,
completely isolated by a broad " canal."

Two of the three most interesting
buildings in Ancona are generally
conspicuous, and have been already
named. Trajan's Arch stands on the
old Eornan Mole, and is still in good
preservation, though in another genera-
tion it will have seen out eighteen
centuries. It is less heavy and massive
than is usual in these memorial arches,
is still adorned by Corinthian columns,
and was formerly enriched by bronze
ornaments. Kaised upon an elevated
pedestal, it is dignified as well as
beautiful, and will be found inferior to
very few monuments of the kind.

Of yet more varied interest, though without much external beauty, is the Duomo,
which, as already mentioned, occupies a commanding situation. It forms a link with
the past, which perhaps reaches yet farther back than the days of Trajan, for it
occupies the site and incorporates the material of a Pagan temple. Its characteristics
have been excellently described by Professor E. H. Freeman:

" The Duomo of Ancona, as seen from the mole, as seen anywhere from the
outside, is a building whose forms are purely and eloquently Christian. Unlike the
earlier basilicas of Ravenna and Borne, it is not satisfied to be all glorious within.
It has its external outline, the outline of the now triumphant Cross, the four arms
joining to support the cupola as the crown of the whole, as distinctly marked as any

Casa Virgili, Brindisi.

78 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Minster of England or Normandy. The cupola instead of the massive towers, the
detached campanile, nmvorthy as it is of the building to which it belongs, tell us that
we are not in Normandy or England, but in Italy. But another feature of the
building tells us that we are in one of those spots of Italy on which influences from
the other side of the Adriatic have left a lasting impress. The city which had once
been the Dorian Ankon, the city which was to be the last fortress in Italy held by
the troops of a Byzantine Emperor, not unfittingly shows the sign of kindred with the
East in the form of the church of its intermediate days. . . . The church which
contains the columns of the temple of the Dorian Aphrodite is still so far Greek as
to follow in its general plan the same Greek cross as St. Mark's, though without
that further accumulation of many cupolas which makes the ducal church of Venice
one of the many reminders that in the City of the Lagoons we are in the Eastern
and not in the Western world."

The whole plan of the church is rather exceptional, for the nave is short in
comparison with the choir. The exterior is plain, except for its grand west portal,
the columns of which, as is so common farther north in Italy, rest upon crouching
lions. The interior is also plain, but the pillars, with their shafts of granite and
cipollino, and their sculptured capitals, in the western part, are evidently relics of
the original temple. The building within and withoiit affords traces of structures
belonging to more than one age, and offers more than one problem to the
archaeologist. Down in the town also is a curious Romanesque church, dedicated
to St. Mary, of which the authority quoted above aptly speaks :

" Disfigured without mercy within, hemmed in among mean buildings without,
famished with an unworthy campanile, this church still retains its west front of
the very richest form of the more barbaric variety of the Italian Romanesque, that
which departs more widely from classical and approaches more nearly to Northern
forms. It is covered with arcades, with a magnificent doorway in the centre, and
almost every arch of the design is living with figures, human, animal, and vegetable.
The doorway is utterly unlike its splendid neighbour in the Duomo. It has, in
fact, not only a Northern, but, one might almost say, an Irish or North- Welsh
character."

South of Ancona are many towns and villages of little importance or interest ;
but the scenery is often varied and pretty. Beyond Termoli it becomes more tame for
a while, until Monte Gargano is approached. This is an almost insulated mass of
hills rising to a height of over four thousand feet and forming the well-known heel of
Italy. Seen from the Adriatic it is a grand group of huge wooded bluffs, which descend
steeply to the water, and are broken here and there by grey crags of limestone. South
of it a broad strip of level land separates the Apennines from the sea, and extends to
beyond Briudisi ; a fertile but interesting district, " a laud of wine and oil olive."

THE WESTERN ADRIATIC.

Barletta, Trani, and Bisceglie are passed in succession ; all towns of some importance,
the first an ancient place, with a statue of some emperor of the East in its market-
place. Then we come to Bari. This, indeed, is without beauty of situation, but
is a bright, growing, much modernised town, which, however, retains parts of its old
walls and its " castello " on a slight and low headland between its two harbours.
Its principal church, dedicated to St. Nicola, is a most interesting structure, for it
retains a considerable portion
of the fabric erected by Robert
Guiscard in 1087 to receive
the relics of that saint. These
yield the manna de Bari,
much prized by Roman pil-
grims. Within and without it
will reward the archaeologist ;
but space forbids us to dwell
on its details, or those of the
Duomo, once a fine church,
but sorely injured by eighteenth
century " improvements."

Our journey ends, as is
often the case with English
travellers, at Brindisi. It has
a fine harbour, completely
land-locked, yet so deep that
first-class steamers can lie
close up to the quay, but is
not otherwise an attractive place. The surrounding country is a very low plateau,
almost a plain, covered with vines and figs and olives, with here and there a date-
palrn and stone-pine, and many a plant of spiky aloe or prickly pear. The town
is not picturesque, and, on the whole, uninteresting. It is emphatically shabby, not
to say dirty, and has the look of having seen better days. So it has, for Brindisi
was the Southampton of Imperial Rome and of Crusading Europe. But after these
expeditions prosperity departed ; its harbours began to fill up, and until the days of
railways it fared badly, for it was sacked by enemies and shattered by an earthquake.
Things have been improved since railways were made, but indications of returning
prosperity can only be found by the harbour-side or without the shattered walls. In
one corner is a ruinous old castle, the round towers of which, notwithstanding ugly
accretions of modern date, are rather picturesque. From the neighbouring town wall
is the best view inland, but we must not look at this, for the ground is so sacred

Column of the Afpian Way, Brindisi.

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

that wr arc at once warned off by a sentry. Respect the dignity of United Italy, and
retire, for the walls of Brindisi are in fragments, and the castle might require half a
dozen shells from a turret gun before it utterly collapsed ! Those who remember
their classics may recall the memories of the Via Appia, which ended here, and
Horace's description of his journey from Rome, and may go to see, if their
capacities for belief are considerable, the house in which Virgil died. In fact,
Brindisi has nothing to detain the traveller except one or two faQades of houses
and old churches, in neither case of any great size, and the ancient marble column
which looks down upon the harbour from the scarped edge of the elevated plain.
There have been two, but of one only the pedestal and a block of the column
(for they are not monoliths) remain. The capital of the other one is richly carved.
Opinions differ as to their history. They were brought here in the eleventh century,
it is supposed, from a ruined temple outside the gates, and are said, but without
authority, to have marked the end of the Appian way. Their date also is rather
uncertain. They may even be Byzantine, as some have thought ; if not, they
belong to the later days of the Western Empire. This seen, quit Brindisi, with
its squalid peasants and tricky harbour-men, as quickly as possible ; and if you
cannot travel by the mail express, you will learn how trains can crawl and traffic be
mismanaged, and how Italy, beyond her show places, is a quarter of a century behind
the countries of Central Europe, and still hides, under the thinnest veil of progress,
the old lazy, careless, mendicant, not to say dishonest, ways !

T. G. BONNET.

, A'azviiua.

Brancaleone.

CALABRIA.

fTVHE phrase "a perfect Paradise if it were not inhabited by devils" has been
applied to Calabria, as well as to certain of the greater islands of the
Mediterranean. It is an expressive phrase, but in this instance not quite veracious.
Though fascinating from two or three aspects, Calabria lacks certain essential
conditions to make it even a terrestrial Paradise. Nor are its people in this age,
whatever they may have been a hundred years ago, by any means so inhuman as
the epigram implies.

The days have gone by when a prudent person would as soon have thought
of entering Calabria alone and unarmed as landing upon an island of cannibals in
the South Seas. The railway which already skirts the entire coast-line of the
province upon the southern and south-eastern sides has made a vast difference to
the land; and when the new line, destined to run from Reggio to Naples as
nearly as possible along the western shores, is also completed, the Calabrians
will speedily surrender the remnant of their old costumes arid traditions, put on
broadcloth, read the daily papers like other civilised mortals, and let their long
guns rust in the corners of their cottages.

It is possible, however, that ere Calabria is tamed to this dreadful extent the
land will be almost depopulated. As it is, the annual exodus thence to America
is very great. The traveller finds indications of it in the most trivial and remote
little highland villages, as well as in the cafes of more advanced townlets within

82 THE PICTURESQUE MEDlTElillANEAN.

hail of the laihvay. The former are still connected with the district capitals by
the rudest of mule tracks, and are encircled iu their apparent isolation by huge
wooded ribs of mountain, at the bases of which are deep gullies made almost
impassable iu the rainy season by the brawling rush of watercourses. Yet even
here the traveller sees the departing emigrants embracing their friends and
acquaintances with much tearful lament, and afterwards setting forth in a halo of
picturesqueness upon a string of mules. He sees others at the railway stations on
the main line for the north, sad and sobbing as they think of the homes they
have left, and the uncertainty of the future. And everywhere the large-lettered
advertisements of the steamship companies confront him, and tell of the constant
nature of the leak which is thus draining the land of its human muscle. If
Calabria were the Paradise the proverb prates of, its sons and daughters, with their
old parents and young children, would not be so ready to migrate elsewhere,
especially now that a strong and paternal Government has removed the taint of
lawlessness which formerly sullied its reputation.

So few travellers set foot in Calabria that the man who does venture into it
feels that he is almost a pioneer. There is something pleasurably exhilarating
about such a feeling, though it may not be wholly justifiable. Hills and valleys,
rivers and villages, the ruined castles of the old-time barons who oppressed the land,
and even the ancient crones who hobble about with many a groan, all get more
or less transfigured by the strong focus of interest that curiosity throws upon them.
The tales of one's landlord in this or that sequestered little hostelry (where the
visitor is in peril of being lionised uncomfortably), and the outspoken chatter of
one's fellow-travellers in the wretched diligences which link valley to valley, have
a knack of recasting themselves in memory, so that they appear subsequently much
more romantic than they really were. The imagination, in short, has a very good
time of it, and, for the moment, cold, clear-eyed Truth is slighted.

Let me give an instance of this. In journeying from Gioja to Monteleone
(towns of Lower Calabria) I had for companions one day, an old gentleman and
his daughter, with whom I soon became agreeably intimate. They were nothing
out of the common to look at, though the girl wore a mantilla, as if to hint at
the ages ago when Spain had a hand in the government of Calabria. We jaunted
slowly along the hot, dusty highway in our hired carriage, between olive woods and
vineyards, and across muddy brooks with but little water in them, until we came to
just such a roadside shrine as the one in the picture. The driver crossed himself,
and so did the old gentleman. But this did not satisfy the girl. What must
she do but desire the vehicle to be stopped, that she might go on her knees
before the dilapidated pale-blue plaster figure set in its niche ? The driver took
the opportunity to light a fresh cigarette ; the old gentleman shrugged his shoulders

CALABEIA. 83

and smiled. When her devotions were at an end, the girl stood up and looked
about her. A bunch of withered flowers in a vase was before the image. For
these anon she substituted fresher ones, picked from the adjacent cactus hedge-rows.
Then, with a happy look of contentment, she rejoined us. But after her prayers
and praiseworthy attentions to the shrine, what think you had the maiden done
further ? She had climbed into a small vegetable-patch hard by, and pilfered
an armful of broad-beans. As we drove on she merrily ate the fruits of her theft,
and expressed a desire for more. It was a trivial little incident at the time, but
now, in retrospect, it seems full of definite portrayal of the simplicity of the Calabrian
character.

Some people fancy that there is still systematised brigandage in Calabria. I am
sorry to have to dispel any such notions ; sorry, that is, for the reader's, not the
traveller's sake. Most of the Calabrian peasantry are sons and daughters or
grandsons and granddaughters of bandits, or of those who were in league with the
bandits. Here, as in Sardinia and Sicily, the profession of brigand was much esteemed
of old. An honest shepherd who lived upon the produce of his flocks and nothing
extraneous, was a man despised of the majority, a fit subject for blackmail ; and as
a suitor for the hand of a spirited girl of the soil he ranked much below the bold
bandit with the blood of a score of victims upon his conscience. The country
seemed made for the practice of this nefarious profession. Every peak was a
fastness, and the yawning valleys round about them were the moats dug or suddenly
created by considerate Dame Nature to protect her valorous sons from the
approaches of the military or the district police. There are a multitude of sites
like that of Brancaleone in the engraving, strong and startling ; and the natives
made the most of them. Tiriolo by Catauzaro is perhaps the most remarkable of
them all. It stands so high that the predaceous villagers could view the land for
many miles round, and the sea on both sides of the peninsula, and thus make their
plans for the interception of strangers with the utmost assurance of success. After
a tour among the Calabrian mountains, one wonders the less why the natives were
so roguishly inclined, and why it was so hard for the Bourbons, and even for Victor
Emmanuel, to eradicate the evil from this province of Italy.

But nowadays all is changed. One may lose oneself in the forests, whether of
Aspromoute in the south, by Eeggio, or in the north of the province, by Cosenza,
and be in peril of nothing worse than a night in the open and a bad cold. The
" caccia al brigantaggio," or brigand-hunting, which a few decades ago afforded such
excellent and lively sport to those who were engaged in it, is at an end. It is well
that it is so, for it was a pitiful pastime even at the best. One may doubt if the
brigands themselves were ever more merciless and inhuman than the soldiers whom
King Murat of Naples commissioned to exterminate them. Until Murat came to the

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Shrine near Catanzaro.

throne there was little effectual re-
straint upon their actions, and when
he was superseded hy a Bourbon
the old licence was renewed. Yet,

though his mandates were stern to ferocity, he himself was not incapable of leniency.
One day, for example, in the neighbourhood of Palmi, he met two soldiers with a man
bound between them. He asked what crime the prisoner had committed, whereupon
the man himself replied : " Your majesty, I am a brigand, but deserving of pardon,
because yesterday while your majesty was climbing the mountains by Scilla, I might
have killed you from behind a rock where I was hiding. I did think of doing it,
and had prepared my gun. But your majesty's noble and royal deportment
restrained me. If yesterday I had killed the king, I should not to-day have been a
prisoner and at the point of death." Murat was notoriously vain of his personal
appearance. He could not fail therefore to appreciate the compliment paid him by
the brigand, whom he straightway set at liberty.

The professional comrades of this rogue, and even women and children suspected
of being in collusion with or related to them, were less fortunate. Colletta, in his
"History of the Kingdom of Naples," gives some appalling details of the cruelty to
which the Calabrians as a people were subjected. It was a capital offence to be
found in the open country with a crust of bread in one's pocket, the inference

u
J

2
5

I
h

2
h
U

-
h

7.
U,

DC
DO

HI; THE PICTliniWQUU MEDITERRANEAN.

being that the hread was for the sustenance of a proscribed person in hiding. Thus
we read of the butchery of eleven women and children by Stilo, who were met on
their way to the olive woods by certain of King Murat's soldiers under the command
of the notorious Gambacorta. The poor creatures each had their midday meal with
them, and upon this evidence alone they were shot then and there. Under
stimulant of this kind it may be imagined that the legitimate brigands did not
spare their foes when they got a chance at them. The land was consequently
reddened with blood, and a hundred years ago men were shot and gibbeted or
mutilated witli as little scruple as if they had been so many crows. The tale of the
South Italian baron who, in a fury against the clergy of his cathedral, cut off all
their heads, and set the severed heads upon the stalls in the cathedral which they
were wont to occupy, is an appropriate testimony to the hardness of the times
here before the spirit of constitutional government came to civilise and reform the
peninsula.

It is perhaps the recollection of the grim, evil lives of their forefathers, brought
home to them the more as they advance in education, that makes civilisation seem
so doubtful a boon to the modern Calabrian. " I loved my father and honoured him
as a brave man until, with your schools and knowledge, you taught me to perceive
that he was only a contemptible thief and shedder of blood." This is what one is
prone to think the Calabrian says in his heart. It may also explain the sadness in
the dark eyes of so many of the villagers. At first sight it is so pathetic an
expression that the stranger does not know what to make of it. Perhaps he asks if
there has been an epidemic (periodical pestilences being another of the influences in
the development of the Calabrian), and if every family has paid toll to death. But
later he arrives at what he conceives to be the real key to the riddle. It is this
yearning to get away from -a land which, with all its tender associations, daily
reminds them of the iniquity and misery of their past, that makes Calabria so
prolific a field of recruits for the broad pampas of the Argentine Republic, public
works on the Panama isthmus, and the slums of New York. It were harrowing to
trace the future of two-thirds of the Calabrian emigrants. In their case the sins of
the fathers are visited upon the children with bitter actuality.

Of the three districts into which Calabria is divided, that of Lower Calabria, of
which Reggio is the capital, is the most thickly peopled. Seen from Sicily, on the
other side of the Straits of Messina, this part of the mainland appears little but
a great mountain plateau. The pines and beech-trees which beset the surface of the
uplands are lost at a distance, and so are the deep ravines which cleave them and
make movement here so arduous. I have looked over this tract from the summit of
Etna, and marvelled where the towns and villages could be found to account for
its population. On scirocco days it is peculiarly gloomy and forbidding. The

CALABEIA. 87

leaden haze of the heavens and the horizon deepens the black of the huge mass
of Aspromonte (the name declares its ruggedness), where Garibaldi in 1862 suffered
defeat, was wounded, and made prisoner. And the race of water in the Strait,
with its low, white-capped waves, makes one think for the moment that there
really might be a respectable measure of danger here at such times. Of course
the ancients exaggerated when they made so much of the famous Scylla and
Charybdis. Entering Messina from the north, the dog-teeth rocks of Scylla to the
left are plainly visible : and certainly they would be unpleasant to shipwreck
upon. But the whirlpool of Charybdis near the lighthouse on the cape from Messina
is less evident. One hears tales of small fishing craft being engulphed in it,
and it is conceivable that now and again there is an accident off Scylla ; but a
modern steamer takes little notice of either of these dreadful risks, separated the
one from the other, moreover, by a distance of about two miles and a half. Virgil's
description of them as they appeared to 2Eneas and his companions, sailing from
the south, has all a poet's licence of enlargement :

" Far on the right her clogs foul Scylla hides,
Charybdis roaring on the left presides,
And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides,
Then spouts them from below : with fury driven
The waves mount up, and wash the face of heaven.
But Scylla from her den, with open jaws,
The sinking vessel in her eddv draws
Then dashes on the rocks."

The modern town of Scilla, perched above the famous rocks, is pretty enough
to tempt an artist. It is a white little place, with abundant orange and lemon
gardens in its neighbourhood. Nowadays it has a railway station, and it is odd to
have one's classical memories freshened by the voices of officials in gold-banded hats
methodically calling the name of the place. A very ambitious line, moreover, is this
new one thus on its way to Naples. It has Pullman cars on its trains, and the
work of tunnelling through the mighty western spurs of Aspromonte, where they fall
almost sheer into the sea, is a vigorous test of the skill of its engineers. The views
of blue sea, olive woods, red ravines, and smoking Stromboli and the other Lipari
Isles, which this line offers between its tunnels, are not easily matched for beauty
even by those of the northern Eiviera between Pisa and Monte Carlo.

Scilla suffered sadly, with the rest of Calabria, in the earthquake of 1783. The
first shock set the houses falling, so that those of the people who could hurried out
of them, and towards the shore. With the other refugees was the Prince of Scilla.
But shortly afterwards there was a second shock : the sea swelled up before the
eyes of the populace, and an enormous wave, more than twenty feet high, rushed
upon the land. The Prince of Scilla and some two thousand others were carried

THE PICTU1UMQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Gerace.

off by the reflux ot the wave, and their bones still lie ungarnered in the sea.
Some said this wave was boiling hot ; but that seems as absurd as the other tradition
which made it speed inland for three miles.

The earthquakes of 1783 were in truth as extraordinary as they were lamentable

\
for Calabria. At about one o'clock in the day of February 5th the first shock

shattered the land. In less than two minutes more than thirty-two thousand men,
women, and children were killed. Mountains were overthrown by it; villages expunged
from the face of the earth, and never a trace of them left; rivers diverted from their
old beds to new. This was the beginning. Other earthquakes followed, in which
the very houses and bodies of men swallowed up on February 5th were cast up again.
Towns which had withstood the earliest and severest quake succumbed to the later
ones. The people became demoralised. Under Ferdinand IV. there was at no
time much security for life in Calabria. But the earthquake burst the prisons and
let loose brigands and rogues upon the land by thousands ; and so everywhere
pillage and murder accompanied the other disasters. Nothing but a pestilence was
wanted to make the misery of the unhappy Calabrians complete ; and in the summer
this also came upon them, as a result of the myriad of dead bodies which poisoned
the air. It was a fearful year. Not fewer than sixty thousand people are said to
have died from the earthquakes in ten months.

One might suppose that at such a time a person would think of anything rather
than going to law. The right of the strong arm was then much, and for the weak
there was the comfort of the church. But these alternatives were not enough for
all. In one district the landed estate of a certain proprietor was upheaved, torn
away, and carried down a mountain side, upon the fields of another proprietor. A

CALABEIA.

whole plantation of olive-trees was thus transferred by Nature. The two proprietors
disputed about their claims, and appealed to the law. The original owner of the
dislodged estate made his plea, which was sufficiently obvious ; and the other who
had thus involuntarily received such a substantial, though embarrassing, addition to his
domains, proved that the land beneath was his. It was surely a case upon which an
entire bench of the wisest judges might well have taken time to adjudicate. But here
in Calabria it was soon settled. The man upon whose estate the other estate had
descended was declared proprietor of all that stood upon his land. More equitably,
the aggrieved landlord might have been told to take away his own plantation, yet

Roccella Tonica, from the Beach : Upper Calabria.

in such a way that he did no harm to the underlying estate of his neighbour. But
it would have put him in a dilemma much like Shylock's.

Earthquakes, pestilences, and perennial disorder used to be the three prime
agents of influence upon the character of the unfortunate Calabrians. Small wonder
they got a bad name for themselves. We, of Great Britain, should be likely to
deteriorate under the same conditions. The architectural poverty of Calabria is no
doubt due in a measure to these earthquakes. Of what use was it to devote long
years of surpassing labour to a work that might in a few moments be destroyed
utterly ? Besides, the older buildings have for the most part been shaken to the
ground, or swallowed up long ago. Exception must, however, be made in favour of
the baronial castles, on their rock eyries. These gaunt ruins still stand firm in
defiance of storms and revolutions. The churches, on the other hand, are generally
uninteresting, ugly, and comparatively fragile ; with inner coats of whitewash, and
decked, as to their altars, with unpleasing fripperies, and pictures that display a
surprising amount of imbecility. Here and there one sees long, jagged seams in

90 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

the walls, crevices, may be, inches deep amid the bricks. This is the work of one
earthquake more violent than its predecessors. The money-box by the door appeals
to the charitable in the name of the earthquake. It is quite likely, however, that
years ere the faithful can contribute enough for the necessary restoration, another
shock will level the building to the ground.

But a sunny day makes one brutally unmindful of these various torments to
which the " toe territory " of Italy has been subjected. The mood of Calabria, and
especially of the Straits, is then completely charming. The white sands by S.
Giovanni and Bagnara then gleam towards Sicily, and the verdure of Aspromonte's
massy slopes has a sheen like velvet. Sails stud the blue channel between the two
lands, with perhaps but just enough breeze in them to keep them steadily in motion.
Though so dark of brow, and sad-faced, even the Calabrian may then be heard
singing merry Neapolitan " canzoni," in oblivion of all his hardships, past, present,
and to come. The steam-ferry that plies between Messina and S. Giovanni (the
nearest village on the opposite shore) is then often quite tumultuous with song,
and the very steward who goes about collecting the coppers from his passengers joins
in with a laugh.

Much might be said about Messina, the head of this beautiful strait which is
named after it. Few older cities exist in Europe, and when one reflects upon the
worth of such a position in the old days, it is not to be wondered at. The strait
was then an international padlock of much more importance than it is ever again
likely to become.

Messina is a great place for fish as well as commerce. On one's bill of fare
here, the item " sword-fish " is sure to attract notice. You may see the fish them-
selves in the market, being shorn into slabs ; and very excellent are sword-fish steaks
when broiled as we broil salmon. Tunny, another common dish in Messina, is not
unlike the sword-fish, but scarcely so palatable.

The visitor who takes an interest in mythology will not fail to look at the
towering altar in the old cathedral of this old city. The cathedral itself is
exceptionally attractive, its strong, coarse architecture telling of the centuries that
have gone by since the Normans began to build it. But the altar is the focus of
all local veneration. Within it is a letter said to have been written by the Virgin
Mary to the Messenians, enclosing a lock of her hair, and expressing the wish that
they would regard her as their patron saint. Such a wish has, of course, been
respected, especially as St. Paul is said to have been the bearer of the letter. Even
nowadays one may meet Sicilians with the Christian name " Letterio " or "Letteria"
(according to their sex), given them in honour of this unique treasure.

Gerace may be approached either from Catanzaro or Keggio, or by diligence
across the mountains from Gioja on the western shore of Calabria. The man who

CALABEIA. 91

is not pressed for time may be advised to follow the last of these routes. Indeed,
the like advice would hold for the rest of Calabria also. It is only iu the interior
that one can appreciate thoroughly the idle, placid life of the Calabrian assured of
a livelihood. Besides, the air among the red-roofed villages in the chestnut and
beech woods of the mountains is so much more bracing than that of the coast-line,
and far healthier.

Malaria is in fact still a cruel scourge in this province of Italy. From spring
to autumn it is prevalent in the lowlands. The sallow faces of the peasants tell
their tale very clearly, and their wan cheeks seem the more wan in contrast with
the gaudy scarlet and blue of their distinctive costumes, and the panoply of beads
and gilt jewellery with which they bedeck themselves. The very fertility of the
country does but aggravate the curse. The rivers that in spring run with a full
stream, brown and turbid, are in summer little better than so many depressions of
unctuous slime. Were the mountains whence they rise less rich in forests, the
malaria of the seaboard (and especially in western Calabria) would be less intense.
As it is, there is a constant renewal of the alluvial soil which annually drains with
their superabundant moisture from the uplands towards the coast. In a certain
church of Cosenza, the capital town of Upper Calabria, one sees a tombstone upon
which is graven the lament that the deceased had no sooner set foot in the place
than he fell a victim to a fever. The epitaph might almost be stereotyped for
more general use.

When the writer was in Gioja a few months ago the new railway from the
south had but just reached the village. Great was the bustle and excitement in the
olive woods on the mountain slopes through which the line was being carried. A
river was being bridged. Stores of all kinds were piled among the gigantic
gnarled trunks of the old trees. Women were cooking victuals for the men, and
large yellow dogs stood about eager for bones or aught else edible. The Calabrian
labourers in their blue cotton jackets were all lustily engaged in helping on the
work of civilisation : either felling trees, dressing granite blocks for the bridge, or
cutting cross-ties for the permanent way.

Gerace is a little remote from the railway and the southern sea, upon both of
which it looks from its higher elevation. Here, it is to be presumed, dwell the
descendants of those once-great people, the Locrians of Magna Gra3cia. This is what
Pindar calls the

" Locrians' favoured land
Refreshed by zephyr's breath."

The whole extent of this south-eastern shore of Italy was, indeed, two and a half
centuries ago, in a surprising state of prosperity. We can but guess at its magnitude
from the feeble records of it in the writings of the ancients. The ruins of the

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

buildings that remain to us are trivial in comparison with the buildings themselves
as they were. There is nothing here like the noble bronzed and gold temples of
PiEstum farther to the north ; yet these were raised by emigrants from Greece of
the same epoch. What little is left of Locri in Gerace lies among the balmy
orchards of oranges and lemons in its vicinity. Agesidamus, the son of Archestratus,
whom Pindar celebrates for his victory with the cestus in the Olympic games, would

not now easily recognise
his birthplace.

Sybaris is another
Calabrian name to conjure
with. The site of this
ancient luxury-loving city
is in middle Calabria, near
that bold peak Monte
Pollino. I spent a few
hours at the modern Sibari
one day, and failed to
discern aught that even

hinted at its substantial
i
past. There was a railway

station and a waiting-room,
in which four priests,
several emigrants and their
bundles, and an old woman

Amcndolea: Upper Calabria. with a prodigious green

umbrella, all sat in terror

of the outer noonday sun. Half a dozen mean houses were near the station. In one
a common table was set upon the earth floor, and divers Calabrian peasants, burnt
almost black, were eating their mid-day meal of barley-bread, raw beans, and wine,
at a cost of five halfpennies apiece. The place teemed with fleas, a characteristic
of Calabrian dwellings ; and well it might, for pigs and poultry were at liberty to
enter and leave the house at their pleasure. A knot of four other men were sitting
round another table outside, under the shade of a tall eiicalyptus tree, playing cards
somewhat soberly ; while another man sat by mending a coat. The broad plain
whence Sybaris drew much of its wealth was beyond the house, stretching to the
base of the purple crag of Pollino, and its oats were ripe for the harvest. It was
not to be traversed this day without peril of a sunstroke, so blistering was the
heat. And thus I too enjoyed my ease under the shade, and drank wine, and
smoked, and viewed the landscape until the cool of the evening was at hand, and

A STREET FOUNTAIN, CATANZARO.

94 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

the mountain put on new garments of startling hues, from violet to crimson, ere
losing itself in the sullen gloom of night.

In fact, however, a summer's night on these Calahrian shores has generally hut
little gloom about it. The stars are here brighter than with us. A mild light
seems to be diffused over the laud from the gentle rippling of the sea upon the
beach ; and countless fireflies dance in the air, like lamps in the hands of fairies
holding revel on these shores of romantic memories.

This is the time, too, to discover a multitude of fanciful beauties in such places
as Koccella lonica, and the other little coast towns. By day there is dirt and
dilapidation enough in their cramped streets ; and the dark faces of the people seem
prematurely wrinkled. But under the moon all is transfigured and bewitching.
The boys, neck-deep in the waveless water, look as if they were in molten silver.
The grime and disorder of the place are sweetly dissembled, and one is content,
even at the certain cost of much discomfort, to pass many a wakeful night in a
Calabrian inn.

But the moods of the Mediterranean are no more enduring than those of our
grey northern seas. It may chance that in an hour or two a storm shall blow up
from the south, cloud the moon, and send the white spume of the waves far over
the smooth sands of the shore. At such times there is likely to be a hurried rally
towards port of the several fishers and other barks in the offing ; and where there
is no harbour near, a good deal of tact and external aid are needful to get the boats
safely beached and cabled out of the influence of the storm. It is surprising what
gales the Mediterranean can brew at an hour's notice. A man need not go to the
North Atlantic or the tropics for a thorough-paced buffeting from wind and waves.
Nor is it then so easy as it looks to get ashore from such a boat as the artist has
shown being hauled, perhaps- too officiously, out of the surf. A little lack of
tact might well eventuate in disaster, even though the disaster meant nothing worse
than a ducking for the passenger and loss of oars and cargo.

So, northwards, by Amaudolea and many another little town of a somewhat
uniform type, and many a tower built in the old times as look-out stations against
the rovers of north Africa and Turkey, we approach the seaport of Catanzaro, the
capital city of middle Calabria.

Here in summer, as elsewhere in the south of the Mediterranean, the inhabitants
seem to be amphibious. Indeed, the wonder would be if they were not, with so fair
and inviting a strand and sea at their very doors. The boys spend hours in the
water; and when they are not swimming or paddling about, with a truly southern
disregard for their nakedness, they lie or lounge about the warm sands, either with
or without a mere shirt to their brown backs, playing cards or chattering, with many
a laugh at they hardly know what. The scene in the picture is suggestive of a

CALABRIA. 95

southern " festa " or saint's day. One may suppose that Catanzaro is holding mild
revel, and that a goodly number of the poorer inhabitants are here, in temporary
encampment, determined to enjoy the gifts of Nature at their disposal. Few sights
in southern Italy are more picturesque than these semi-religious gatherings. The
priests are with their flock, but they do not oppress them with a superabundance of
devotional services at such times. There is a mass in the morning, a procession
through the midst of the camp with cross and tliurifer and the particular reliquary of
the saint being honoured. After this the day is mainly divided between dinner-time
and the dance. A considerable quantity of wind is drunk. If the "festa" lasts
but a day or two, the night is not an occasion for sleep. And on the morrow, if
the assemblage is not dissolved, the scenes are repeated ; and so on until the holiday
is at an end. The few headaches that result from all this jmiketting are as nothing
at all by the side of the joyous exhilaration to which they give birth. The
Calabrians are among the most superstitious of Italians. Their " feste " are therefore
almost necessary incidents of their lives. Without them it is conceivable they would
be fanatics of a very gloomy kind.

The marina of Catanzaro is eight or nine miles from Catanzaro itself, and
connected with it by a branch line of railway. The approach to Catanzaro from the
coast is sufficiently impressive, for the city has a superb situation on a rock which
falls almost perpendicularly a thousand feet towards the lowland upon one side. The
road winds down to the plain and the railway station, from the steep streets of the
city, with an infinite number of zigzags, and tedious indeed is the ascent from the
marina. Such a place might be expected to have a good record of resistance to
siege. It is all but impregnable, as the royalists in the wars between Ferdinand II.,
the deposed king of Naples, and the French Republicans (who held it) found to
their cost. With much labour, cannon might be dragged to the summit of the
neighbouring mountains, whence it could be bombarded. Otherwise, Catanzaro might
laugh even at the stoutest efforts of modern siege artillery. In the early days of
the century Catanzaro was rather an advanced city ; by no means the home of
stale fashions and servile opinions. To-day also it is in repute for its enlightened
freedom of thought. This is no small thing in a province so ridden by superstition
as Calabria, and in which the average Calabrian would rather trust for his welfare,
temporal and spiritual, to the brazen medallions of the saints which he wears next
his heart, than to his own right hand, systematic industry, and a well-disciplined
intelligence.

But to my mind Catanzaro is even more engaging when readied from the
interior. I made the journey from Monteleone one day, a diligence ride of forty
miles, lasting from 6 a.m. until 5 p.m. This may seem but a poor pace ; yet it was
not bad for the country, which, save for the first two hours and a half of the road,

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Catanzaro Marina.

consists of a series of acclivities which have to be climbed upon one side and
descended on the other. The Calabrian coachmen are rare madcaps. They flog
their horses down-hill till the greatest possible amount of speed is attained. The
rickety old coach (perhaps tethered to the animals by frayed ropes instead of leather
reins) follows reluctantly, with many a direful creak, and swaying ominously from
side to side. There is thus always an element of peril in a Calabrian coach. The
drivers do not deny the imputation, but lay the fault for it at the feet of the postal
authorities of the kingdom, by whom they are subsidised in so mean a manner that
they cannot afford to be particular about the harness.

Until we began to rise into the mountains, which traverse the length of the
peninsula like a backbone, we were on flattish ground. Where there was cultivation,
vines and oranges throve well here. But for the most part the country was wild
and uninhabited. Seaward there was a great stretch of scrub-land, bisected by the
broad, stony bed of a river, and highly suggestive of the fever it bountifully begets.
Inland, however, the view was more enlivening. The lower slopes of the hills were
full of flowers and heath and gorse, interspersed with battalions of mammoth thistles
in fervent bloom ; and above, the olive woods formed a fringe between this nether
zone and the still higher dark masses of oak forest, knee-deep in fern, and the haunt
of game. There is fine timber in the Calabriau woods, though perhaps less than in
the past, when the Greeks came here for the material for their fleets, and when,
subsequently, Napoleon coveted the land for the sake of the unborn navies he
saw in it.

CALABEIA.

Catanzaro.

By the afternoon we had done
with the plains. It was then climh
after climb, from plateau to plateau, over and
round the long flanks of the mountains. We got
into the clouds, descended from them, and anon

rose into them again. The scenery was vigorous enough, but the engineers who have
made these excellent highways through the land are responsible for a diminution
of the romance of Calabria. It is difficult to think of this country as the hive of
brigands it used to be ; at least, it would be if the tradition of them was not still
so strong. Here and there we passed a locality with a story appended to it. Yonder
pile of rocks, with the fringe of bushes on the summit, was a favourite perch of the
bandits. They challenged the travellers through the bushes, which concealed both
them and the gun-barrels which stared at the hearts of the wayfarers. Elsewhere,
the police and the villagers (nearly as much bandits as the bandits themselves) had
had a brush among the trees. The iron cross under the oak marks the spot where
so many police and so many Calabriaus bit the dust. Thus, from one site to
another, we came to Tiriolo, the notorious nest of brigandage, so high up in the
clouds that we did not see it until we were close under it. This place is nearly
three thousand feet above the sea; the slopes beneath it were terraced with vines,
and women in crimson skirts with blue bodices, and long streamers to their heads,
either white or yellow and black, were working in the fields. Of course in winter
there is snow here, but in summer, if Calabria continues to prosper, it is likely by
and by to become a place of " villegiatura." From its dark houses one looks towards
the Lipari Islands on one side of Italy, and the Gulf of Taranto on the other.

98 THE PICTi'ltESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Catauzaro is a city with about thirty thousand inhabitants. Its shops are large,
and in the miscellaneous nature of their goods much like the stores of an American
town. You may buy a pocket-handkerchief and a packet of chocolate at the same
counter. The streets are, as a rule, both dark and narrow. Their picturesqueness is
certainly not due to the architecture of their houses, but to the bustle of varied
movement in them, and the glimpses of domestic life one perceives through the open
doors on both hands. The principal thoroughfare, in which the hotels, cafes, chief
shops and municipal buildings are situated, is generally thronged towards sunset, and
it is as difficult to make one's way up or down it as in the back streets of Naples.
Here, however, broadcloth is commonly worn; and the frequent mention of Signer
Crispi's name tells of the interest of these gossipers in the politics of the day. It
is the same in the gilded cafe hard by, and which offers much toothsome pastry
to its customers. To avoid this conventional metropolitan tone, one must turn aside
and get into the network of shaded alleys which form the very broad fringe to the
nucleus of the city. Here one is sure to meet peasants from the country in their
unadulterated traditional garb. They come hither to sell eggs and poultry; and very
agreeable features of the road they are, with their straight, sturdy carriage, swinging
arms, and stout, brown legs.

In this elevated city I found the air fresh almost to coolness when the sun
was behind the mountains. The damp and smell of the soil which ascended to the
aerial battlements of the city made me think of my native county in England.
But before the evening mists quite enveloped us, and the last glow left the
Mediterranean, we had a broad panorama of the summits of hills and mountains
towards the south. It was a singularly bleak prospect, not unlike the outlook over
the Cheviots from one of the higher peaks of the Border range. The hills were nearly
denuded of trees, and the scrub upon them was diversified with patches of brilliant
green and a bright crimson, grass and clover of an excellent kind, vamable to
agriculturists. North, however, a dark cloud was upon the mountains of the interior,
and it was evident rain was falling.

Few cities have such a magnificent promenade as the Via Bellavista of
Catanzaro. The road skirts the edge of the precipice by which the city is built,
and the broad river-bed at its base seems dwindled to a ribbon's width. Hither,
at sundown, the citizens and their wives and daughters come to take the air,
enjoy the view, see and be seen. The ladies of Catanzaro have long had a
reputation for their beauty. When the French soldiers were quartered here in the
Napoleonic wars the officers were delighted to find that it was a custom (breach of
which implied extreme discourtesy) for acquaintances of both sexes to kiss each
other as a formal method of salutation. They thought no more of it than if they
had merely put hand to hand. In his memoirs of the war in Calabria one of

CALABRIA.

these officers describes the winning way iu which the fair girls of Catanzaro, upon
an introduction, were wont to make tender of their lips.

Alas, however ! the spirit of progress which has breathed over Calabria in so
many directions during the last century has wrought a change iu this respect also.
The manners of the young ladies of Catanzaro to-day do not differ much from
those of the Neapolitans, and it is no longer the custom to kiss a stranger at sight.
Otherwise it is probable the excursion agents of the ribald North of Europe would be
quick to advertise tours to this fascinating spot. For my part, I was fain to believe
the ladies of the city are not as beautiful as their fame. It might have been

Policoro, JBasilicata.

different if they had shown the old interest in a stranger. But they showed none, as
a matter of fact. They moved up and down the promenade in their stiff, unbecoming
finery and tall Paris hats, chattering so fast that the swallows, gyrating athwart
the face of Catanzaro's cliffs, seemed to hold their babble for a challenge, and screamed
loud in their turn. Nevertheless, for their long, exuberant black hair, and their
expressive dark eyes, the ladies of Catanzaro still deserve to be praised.

Cotrone is distant from Catanzaro about thirty-seven miles by the railway.
It is another of the famous cities of Magna Grsecia, with a history receding
almost to fabulous times. In the nineteenth century after Christ it is but a
puny place compared to what it was some five centuries before the Christian era.
Its population of to-day, all told, is not reckoned more than ten thousand, but
in the year 510 B.C., as Croton, it is said to have been able to put an army of a
hundred thousand men in the field. Perhaps, however, this included mercenary
troops as well as Crotonians.

All the land adjacent to Cotrone and Taranto is sacred to the memory of
Hannibal and the Koman consuls who patriotically opposed him, with such varying

100

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

The Castle, Cotrone.

success. By that time Cotrone, or Croton, had passed the zenith of its importance.
But it was still an aristocratic city when it fell into the hands of the Carthaginians,
early in the long duel between Carthage and Koine. In the third century B.C.
Cotrone was, according to Livy, twelve thousand paces in circuit. It was a place of
visitation for votaries of the Lacinian Juno, whose temple stood on the modern Capo
delle Colonne, some six miles distant. Of this temple, nestled in a belt of trees,
the resort of people from far and near, and in the sacred demesne attached to which
flocks and herds consecrated to the goddess were pastured unattended by a shepherd,
nothing remains except one column and sundry disconnected masses of masonry.
After a manner very common in the countries of the Mediterranean, the veneration
in which the temple of the Laciniau Juno was held is perpetuated in the regard of
a somewhat similar kind which the local inhabitants feel for the Christian church
that has superseded it. Instead of a temple to Juno there is a church to the
Madonna of the Cape, and thither the girl-children of the district periodically go
bare-footed in procession, to make their vows and petitions to " the Mother of God."

The river, which Livy mentions as dividing the city of Cotrone, is clearly
indicated in the artist's drawing. Sometimes it has much water in it, and sometimes
it has little or none.

In the year 1806, when Calabria, like the rest of Europe, was full of conflicting
troops, Cotrone, then in possession of the Bourbons, was besieged by the French.
The blockade was so close that provisions fell short, and there seemed no hope

DC
O
<
J
<

h
Ifl

CALABRIA.

101

for the city except in surrender. It chanced at this conjuncture that an English
frigate appeared in the offing. By some means or other it was necessary to advise
the commander of the ship of the situation of the besieged, that these might profit
hy our alliance with the deposed king of Naples. Three men undertook the
mission. They stripped, and entered the river, which the rains had fairly filled
with water. Thus they reached its point of junction with the sea. Here the
French saw and fired at them. One was killed, and the second was wounded. But
the third swam on, and eventually reached the frigate. By this means the garrison
of Cotrone were saved. They were able to embark on the ship, and afterwards the
city surrendered to the French.

Seven years previously Cotrone had suffered horribly at
the hands of the Bourbon leader, Cardinal lluffo. It was
then held by only thirty-two French soldiers, veterans from
the army of Egypt. Buffo was assured of
re-possessing it for Ferdinand. The cardinal, a
brutal fellow of mean crigin and bad

Slraiia Garibaldi, Taranlo.

10-2 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

character, refused all terms to the besieged, and the city was taken by assault. The
sack lasted two days, tin- Bourbon soldiers being licensed to commit every conceivable
.nit rage upon the miserable Cotronians. When aU was over, the cardinal, in purple
vestments, celebrated mass before his troops, whom he formally absolved from the
sins they had committed during the last few hours; and he blessed them as a
stimulus to new deeds of the same kind. It may be imagined that the other cities
of Calabria took good heed how they engaged in conflict with this ecclesiastic.

One may, recall these and the other various vicissitudes of the city at one's
ease, and with considerable pleasure, after the evening meal in Cotrone's little inn,
or even over the macaroni and wine at table. There is a tendency to fancy that the
Calabrians are rogues in their treatment of strangers, as their grandsires used to
be. It is not so really. Perhaps it is because they see so few : they do not know
how precious a booty they are. Certainly I, for one, had no need to keep in mind
the warning proffered to me by a Calabrian about his fellow-countrymen: "If you
would not be cheated by them, you must cheat them." At the hotels the cost of
your bedchamber is placarded over the head of the bed; nor are you defrauded by
preposterous and vague items in your bill. This is quite charming to the traveller
fresh from Neapolitan inns. And he is thus half-disposed to leave Calabria (like
Hannibal when he was summoned hence to Carthage, as the last hope of the state)
with groans and lamentations about the uncertainty of the future.

This maritime district of south Italy is associated wit^h the name of another
warrior, whom Hannibal regarded as the superior of both Scipio and himself, the
great Pyrrhus. Tarentum, at war with Rome, called Pyrrhus to her aid, as a general
" of ability and character." Pyrrhus had no particular regard for the Tarentines,
but he was quick to accept this opportunity to extend his fame and enlarge his
empire. To Tarentum therefore he sailed, with troops and elephants. He did not
think much of the Tarentines themselves, who " sat still at home, and spent their
time about the baths or in feasting and idle talk, as expecting that he would fight
for them." As a remedy for this, he therefore, as Plutarch tells us, " shut up the
places of exercise, and the walks where they used, as they sauntered along, to
conduct the war with words. He also put a stop to their unseasonable entertainments,
revels, and diversions. Instead of these, he called them to arms, and in his musters
and reviews was severe and inexorable ; so that many of them quitted the place ;
for, being unaccustomed to be under command, they called that a slavery which
was not a life of pleasure." This done, he prepared to meet the Romans under the
Consul Lsevinus. He marched inland, towards the level ground between Heraclea
and Pandosia, where he found the enemy in battle array ready for him. Policoro
commemorates the scene of his victory. The Romans are said to have lost fifteen
thousand men, and Pyrrhus thirteen thousand ; the honour of the day being with the

CALABEIA.

103

elephants, who broke the Roman legions. These plains between the mountains of
Calabria and the Apennines more to the north were admirable battle-fields. The hills
by Eocca Imperiale and Monte Pollino have seen many a fray of which history
has no record ; and the long grass and the grain and wild olives of Sybaris and
Policoro may almost be said to be nourished on the human blood in their soil.

About modern Taranto, the survival of that great Tarentum for which Hannibal
and Home wrestled for years, and which in B.C. 209 yielded so immense a booty to

Taranto.

the Roman treasury, not much can be said here. It is a city of Puglia, not
Calabria, celebrated for its oysters, and for that matchless inertia which sits so
gracefully upon the southern Italian. The view of Strada Garibaldi, in the engraving,
is Santa Lucia of Naples on a small scale. One sees here the same dark-skinned
and dark-eyed happy-go-lucky bipeds, content to sit chattering on chairs in the
shade from sunrise to sunset ; the same dirt and gaiety ; the same tall houses with
balconies, and parti-coloured counterpanes, sheets, blankets, or washed linen suspended
from the windows to dry in the sun.

Dame Nature has been civiller to few habitable sites than to Taranto. Its
position on an island between the living Mediterranean and a little inland sea (the
" Mare Clausum "), placid as a lagoon, is delightful and convenient. Bridges connect
the old town with its fairer suburbs and the mainland at either extremity.

104

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

According to Horace,

No >|.ni s ( i joyous ... of this \vidc glulir's extended shores."

1 5 ut one must not come to Tarauto for types of Calabrian men and women.
It inav, however, be confessed in conclusion, that even the legitimate Calabrians of
the mountains arc a little disappointing to a person in search of muscular individuals.
The men are less conspicuously robust than the women. This may be due to the
old practice whereby the women do more field-work than the men. But the men
themselves, though undersized, are active and enduring; and, like all Highlanders,
they are taller than their lowland neighbours. The most characteristic feature of
their garb is a little black sugar-loaf hat, with a narrow brim, from which hang three
or four short leather tags. Their jacket and knee-breeches are black, like the national
hat, so that their general appearance is somewhat sinister.

But, of course, it is only a question of time ere the little black hat and all
their other eccentricities (agreeable or otherwise) shall utterly disappear. The other
day two Calabrians disputed about the dignity of carrying the baldaquin in a church
procession: the one stabbed the other so that he died. The old passionate blood
of their brigandage days boiled for a moment, and this was the outcome. So with
their costumes. A hundred years hence perhaps a few of their local peculiarities
will survive, as traditions of the home land, in the Argentine territory of South
America. But it is probable that the tailors of a united Italy will, long ere then,
have set hard and fast chains of dull convention upon the Calabrians of Calabria.

CHARLES EDWARDES.

Rocca Imperials*

Washing-place outside the Walls, Almcria.

MALAGA.

"1 MALAGA has been very differently described and appreciated. The Arab chroniclers
who knew it in the palmy days of the Moorish domination considered it " a
most beautiful city, densely peopled, large and most excellent." Some rose to
poetical rhapsody in describing it; they praised it as "the central jewel of a
necklace, a land of paradise, the pole star, the diadem of the moon, the forehead
of a bewitching beauty unveiled." A Spanish poet was not less eloquent, and sang
of Malaga as "the enchantress, the home of eternal spring, bathed by the soft sea,
nestling amidst flowers." Ford, on the other hand, that prince of guide-book
makers, who knew the Spain of his day intimately from end to end, rather despised
Malaga. He thought it a fine but purely commercial city, having " few attractions
beyond climate, almonds and raisins, and sweet wine." Malaga has made great
strides nevertheless in the forty-odd years since Ford so wrote of it. While
preserving many of the charming characteristics which evoked such high-flown
encomiums in the past, it has developed considerably in trade, population, and
importance. It grows daily ; building is constantly in progress, new streets are added
year after year to the town. Its commerce flourishes ; its port is filled with shipping
which carry off its many manufactures: chocolate, liquorice, porous jars, and clay
figures, the iron ores that are smelted on the spot ; the multifarious products of its
fertile soil, which grows in rich profusion the choicest fruits of the earth : grapes,
melons, plantains, guava, quince, Japanese medlars, oranges, lemons, and prickly pears.
All the appliances and luxurious aids to comfort known to our latter-day civilisation

loc. 77/7'; PICTl'i;i-:s< t X'l-: MEDITERRANEAN.

are to be found in Malaga : several tlicatres, one of tlioin an opera house, clubs,
grand hotels, bankers, English doctors, cabs. It rejoices too in an indefeasible and
priceless gift, a nearly perfect climate, the driest and balmiest in Southern Europe.
Rain falls in Malaga but half a dozen days in the year, and its winter sun would
shame that of an English summer. It has a southern aspect, and is sheltered from
the north by an imposing range of mountains; its only trouble is the terral or
north-west wind, the same disagreeable visitor as that known on the Italian Eiviera
as the Tramontana, and in the south of France as the Mistral. These climatic
advantages have long recommended Malaga as a winter health resort for delicate
and consumptive invalids, and an increasingly successful rival to Madeira, Malta, and
Algiers. The general view of this city of siinshine, looking westward, to which point
it lies open, is pleasing and varied ; luxuriant southern vegetation, aloes, palmetto,
and palms, fill up the foreground ; in the middle distance are the dazzling white
facades and towers of the town, the great amphitheatre of the bull ring, the tall
spire of the Cathedral a very conspicuous object, the whole set off by the dark
blue Mediterranean, and the reddish-purple background of the Sierra Berrneja or
Vermilion Hills.

There is active enjoyment to be got in and near Malaga as well as the mere
negative pleasure of a calm, lazy life amid beautiful scenes. It is an excellent point
of departure for interesting excursions. Malaga lies on the fringe of a country full of
great memories, and preserving many curious antiquarian remains. It is within easy
reach by rail of Granada and the world-renowned Alhambra, whence the ascent of
the great southern snowy range, the Sierra Nevada, may be made with pleasurable
excitement and a minimum of discomfort. Other towns closely associated with
great events may also be visited : Alhama, the mountain key of Granada, whose
capture preluded that of the Moorish capital and is enshrined in Byron's beautiful
verse ; Honda, the wildly picturesque town lying in the heart of its own savage
hills; Almeria, Antequera, Archidona, all old Moorish towns. By the coast road
westward, a two days' ride, through Estepona and Marbella, little seaside towns
bathed by the tideless Mediterranean, Gibraltar may be reached, the great rock
fortress won by English daring and held by English pluck for nearly two hundred
years. Inland, a day's journey, are the baths of Caratraca, delightfully situated in
a narrow mountain valley, a cleft of the rugged hill, and famous throughout Spain.
The waters are akin to those of Harrogate, and are largely patronised by crowds of
the bluest-blooded hidalgos, the most fashionable people, Spaniards from La Corte
(Madrid), and all parts of the Peninsula. Yet another series of riding excursions
be made into the wild Alpujarras, a desolate and uncultivated district gemmed
with bright oases of verdure, which are best reached by the coast road leading from
Malaga through Velez Malaga, Motril to Adra, and which is perhaps the pleasantest

MALAGA.

107

route to Granada itself. On one side is the dark -blue sea; on the other, vine-clad

hills: this is a land, to use Ford's words, "overflowing with oil and wine; here is

the palm without the desert, the sugar-cane without the slave;" old Moorish castles

perched like eagles' eyries crown the

hills ; helow cluster the spires and towers

of churches and convents, hemmed in

by the richest vegetation. The whole of

this long strip of coast is rich with the

alluvial deposits brought down by the

mountain torrents from the snowy Sierras

above ; in spring time, before the summer

heats have parched the land, everything

flourishes here, the sweet potato, indigo,

sugar-cane and vine; masses of wild

flowers in innumerable gay colours, the

blue iris, the crimson oleander, geraniums,

and luxuriant festoons of maidenhair

Coast Road near Adra,
Andalusia.

ferns bedeck
the landscape
around. It is
impossible to exaggerate
the delights of these riding trips ;
the traveller relying upon his
horse, which carries a modest kit,

enjoys a strange sense of independence : he can go on or stop, as he chooses, lengthen
or shorten his day's journey, which takes him perpetually and at the leisurely pace

108

Till:

MEDITERRANEAN.

Malaga, from the Alcazalia.

which permits ample observation of the varied views. The scene changes constantly :
now he threads a half-dried watercourse, thick with palmetto and gum cistus ; now
he makes the slow circuit of a series of little rocky bays washed by the tideless calm
of the blue sea ; now he breasts the steep slope, the seemingly perilous ascent of bold
cliffs, along which winds the track made centuries since when the most direct was
deemed the shortest way to anywhere in spite of the difficulties that intervened.

Malaga as a seaport and place of settlement can claim almost fabulous antiquity.
It was first founded by the Phoenicians three thousand years ago, and a continuous
existence of thirty centuries fully proves the wisdom of their choice. Its name is
said to be Phoenician, and is differently derived from a word meaning salt, and
another which would distinguish it as "the king's town." From the earliest ages
Malaga did a thriving business in salt fish ; its chief product and export were the
same anchovies and the small boquerones, not unlike an English whitebait, which are
still the most highly prized delicacies of the Malaga fish market. Southern Spain
\\.-is jiniong the richest and most valued of Phoenician possessions. It was a mine of
wealth to them, the Tarshish of Biblical history from which they drew such vast
supplies of the precious metals that their ships carried silver anchors. Hiram, King
of Tyre, was a sort of goldsmith to Solomon, furnishing the wise man's house with
such stores of gold and silver utensils that silver was " accounted nothing therein," as
we read in the First Book of Kings. When the star of Tyre and Sidon waned, and

D
J

D
co

X
H

E
U,

<
J

no THK I'ICTUREKQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Cartha-e became the great commercial centre of the Mediterranean, it controlled the
mineral wealth of Spain ami traded largely with Malaga. Later, when Spain passed
entirely into Roman hands, this southern province of Boetica grew more and more
valuable, and the wealth of the country passed through its ports eastward to the
great marts of the world. Malaga, however, was never the equal either in wealth or
commeirial importance of its more eastern and more happily placed neighbour Almeria.
The latter was the once famous " Portus Magnus," or Great Port, which monopolised
most of the maritime traffic with Italy and the more distant East. But Malaga rose
in prosperity as Roman settlers crowded into Boetica, and Roman remains excavated
in and around the town attest the size and importance of the place under the
Unmans. It was a municipium, had a fine amphitheatre, the foundations of which
were laid bare long afterwards in building a convent, while many bronzes, fragments
of statuary, and Roman coins found from time to time prove the intimate relations
between Malaga and the then Mistress of the World. The Goths, who came next,
overran Boetica, and although their stay was short, they rechristened the province,
which is still known by their name, the modern Audal-, or Vandalucia. Malaga was
a place of no importance in the time of the Visigoths, and it declined, only to rise
with revived splendour under the Moors, when it reached the zenith of its greatness,
and stood high in rank among the Hispano-Mauresque cities.

It was the same one-eyed Berber General, Tarik, who took Gibraltar who was
the first Moorish master of Malaga. Legendary story still associates a gate in the
old Moorish castle, the Gibralfaro, with the Moorish invasion. This Puerta de la Cava
was called, it has been said, after the ill-used daughter of Count Julyan whose
wrongs led to the appeal to Moorish intervention. But it is not known historically
that Count Julyan had a daughter named La Cava, or any daughter at all ; nor is
it likely that the Moors would remember the Christian maiden's name as sponsor for
the gate. After the Moorish conquest Malaga fell to the tribes that came from the
river Jordan, a pastoral race " who extended their rule to the open lands as far as
Archidona. The richness of their new possession attracted great hordes of Arabs
from their distant homes ; there was a general exodus, and each as it came to the
land of promise settled where they found anything that recalled their distant homes.
Thus the tribes from the deserts of Palmyra found a congenial resting-place on the
arid coast near Almeria and the more rugged kingdom of Murcia; the Syrian
mountaineers established themselves amidst the rocky fastness of the Ronda Serrania ;
while those from Damascus and Bagdad revelled in the luxuriant beauty of the
fertile plains watered by the Xenil and Darro, the great Vega, with its orange-groves
and jewelled gardens that still make Granada a smiling paradise.

These Moslem conquerors were admirable in their administration and development
of the land they seized, quick to perceive its latent resources and make the most

MALAGA.

Ill

of them. Malaga itself became the court and seat of government of a powerful
dynasty whose realms extended inland as far as Cordova, and the region around
grew under their energetic and enlightened management into one great garden
teeming with the most varied vegetation. What chiefly commended Malaga to the
Moors was the beauty of its climate and the amazing
fertility of the soil. The first was a God-sent gift,
the latter made unstinting return for the labour freely
but intelligently applied. Water was and still is the
great need of those thirsty and nearly rainless southern
lauds, and the Moorish methods of irrigation, ample
specimens of which still sur-
vive, were most elaborate and
effective contrivances for dis-
tributing the fertilising fluid.
Many of these ancient systems
of irrigation are still at work
at Murcia, Valencia, Granada,
and elsewhere. The Moors
were masters of hydraulic
science, which was never more
widely or intelligently prac-
tised than in the East. So
the methods adopted and still
seen in Spain have their
Oriental prototypes and counterparts.
They varied, of course, with the cha-
racter of the district to be irrigated
and the sources of supply. Where
rivers and running water gave the
material, it was conveyed in canals ;
one main trunk-line or artery supplied
the fluid to innumerable smaller water-
courses or veins, the acequias, which formed a reticulated network of minute
ramifications. The great difficulty in the plains, and this was especially the case
about Malaga, was to provide a proper fall, which was effected either by carrying
the water to a higher level by an aqueduct or sinking in below the surface in
subterranean channels. Where the water had to be raised from underground, the
simple pole, on which worked an arm or lever with a bucket, was used, the identical
"shadoof" of the Nile; or the more elaborate water-wheel, the Arab Anaoura, a

La Conception, Malaga.

112 mi.; I'ICTUUESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

name still pressed in the Spanish N*ria } one of which is figured in the Almeria
washing-place, where it serves the gossiping lavandera* at their work. In these
llon:ls the motive power is usually that of a patient ox, which works a revolving
Wheel, and so turns a second at right angles armed with jars or buckets. These

descend in turn, coming up
charged with water, which
falls over into a reservoir or
pipe, whence it flows to do
its business below.

Under this admirable
system the land gives forth
perpetual increase. It knows
no repose. Nothing lies fal-
low. " Man is never weary
of sowing, nor the sun ot
calling into life." Crop suc-
ceeds crop with astonishing
rapidity; three or four har-
vests of corn are reaped
in the year, twelve or fifteen
of clover and lucerne. All

kinds of fruit abound; the
margins of the watercourses
blossom with flowers that
would be prized in an Eng-
lish hothouse, and the most
marvellous fecundity pre-
vails. By these means the
Moors of Malaga, the most
scientific and successful of
gardeners, developed to the
utmost the marvellously pro-
lific soil. Moorish writers
described the pomegranates
of Malaga as red as rubies, and unequalled in the whole world. The brevas,
or small green figs, were of exquisitely delicious flavour, and still merit that
encomium. Grapes were a drug in the markets, cheap as dirt ; while the raisins
into which they were converted, by a process that dates back to the Phoanicians,
found their way into the far East and were famous in Palestine, Arabia, and

Street beneath the Alcazar, Malaga.

MALAGA.

113

beyond. The vineyards of the Malaga district, a wide tract embracing all the
southern slopes towards the Mediterranean, were, and still are, the chief source
of its wealth. The wine of Malaga could tempt even Mohammedan Moors to
forget their prophet's prohibition ; it was so delicious that a dying Moor when
commending his soul to God asked for only two blessings in Paradise, enough to
drink of the wines of Malaga and Seville. As the " Mountains," this same wine
was much drunk and appreciated by our forefathers. To this day "Malaga" is largely
consumed, both dry and sweet, especially that known as the Lagrimas, or Tears, a
cognate term to the famous Lachrymse Christ! of Naples, and which are the very
essence of the rich ripe grapes, which are hung up in the sun till the juice flows from
them in luscious drops. Orange groves and lemon groves abound in the Vega, and the
fruit is largely exported. The collection and packing are done at points along the line
of railway to which Malaga is the maritime terminus, as at La Pizarra, a small but
important station which is the starting point for the Baths of Caratraca, and the
mountain ride to Eonda through the magnificent pass of El Burgo. Of late years
Malaga has become a species of market garden, in which large quantities of early
vegetables are raised, the primeurs of French gourmets, the young peas, potatoes,
asparagus, and lettuce, which are sent north to Paris during the winter mouths by
express trains. This is probably a more profitable business than the raising of the
sugar-cane, an industry introduced (or more exactly, revived, for it was known to and
cultivated by the Moors) in and around Malaga by the well-known General Concha,
Marques del Duero. He spent the bulk of a large fortune in developing the cane
cultivation, and almost ruined himself in this patriotic endeavour. Others benefited

Alincria, from the East.

TIH-: PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

largt -iv l>y his well-meant enterprise, ami the sugar fields of southern Spain prospered
until the (leriiian beet sugar drove the hoine-growii hard. The climate of Malaga,
with its great dryness and absolute iininunity from frost, is exceedingly favourable
to the growth of the sugar-cane, and the sugar fields at the time of the cutting are
picturesque centres of activity. The best idea, however, of the amazing fertility of
this gifted country will be obtained from a visit to one of the private residential
estates, or Jincnx, such as that of La Concepcion, where palms, bamboos, arums,
cicads and other tropical plants thrive bravely in the open air. It is only a short
drive, and is well worth a visit. The small Grecian temple (see the illustration)
is full of Roman remains, chiefly from Cartama, the site of a great Roman city
which Livy has described. Some of these remains are of beautiful marble figures,
which were found, like ordinary stones, built into a prison wall and rescued with
some difficult}'. The Malaga authorities annexed them, thinking they contained
gold, then threw them away as old rubbish. Other remains at La Concepcion are
fragments of the Roman municipal law, on bronze tablets, found at Osuua,
between Autequera and Seville.

Malaga possesses many mementoes of the Moors besides their methods of
irrigation. The great citadel which this truly militant race erected upon the chief
point of vantage and key to the possession of Malaga still remains. This, the Castle
of Gibralfaro, the rock of the lighthouse, was built by a prince of Granada, Mohammed,

upon the site of a Phoenician fortress, and it was so strongly fortified and held that

i
it long resisted the strenuous efforts of Ferdinand and Isabella in the memorable

siege which prefaced the fall of Granada. How disgracefully the Catholic kings
ill-treated the conquered Moors of Malaga, condemning them to slavery or the
<in to daft-, may be read in the pages of Prescott. The towers of the Gibralfaro still
standing have each a story of its own : one was the atalaya, or watch-tower ; on
another, that of La Vela, a great silver cross was erected when the city surrendered.
Below the Gibralfaro, but connected with it and forming part of the four deep city
walls, is the Alcazaba, another fortification utilised by the Moors, but the fortress
they raised stands upon Phosuiciau foundations. The illustrations plainly show how
this now ruined but still stalwart citadel dominated the lower town ; in one it
overlooks even the tall tower of the cathedral, in the other rises menacing against
the sky-line, and its lofty outlines merge in the still higher Gibralfaro. The quarter
that lies below these Moorish strongholds is the most ancient part of Malaga, a
wilderness of dark, winding alleys of Oriental aspect, and no doubt of Moorish
origin. This is the home of the lower classes, of the turbulent masses who
have in all ages been a trial and trouble to the authorities of the time. The
Malagueiios, the inhabitants of Malaga, whether Moors or Spaniards, have ever
h<-<-n rebellious subjects of their liege lords and uncomfortable neighbours to one

MALAGA. 115

another. lu all their commotions they have generally espoused the cause which has
ultimately failed.

Thus, iu 1831, Kiego and Torrijos having heen in open revolt against the
Government, were lured into embarking for Malaga from Gibraltar, where they had
assembled, by its military commandant Moreno, and shot down to a man on the
beach below the Carmen Convent. Among the victims was an Englishman, Mr.
Boyd, whose unhappy fate led to sharp protests from England. Since this massacre
a tardy tribute has been raised to the memory of the slain ; it stands in the shape
of a monument in the Plaza de Kiego, the Alarneda. Again, Malaga sided witli
Espartero in 18!3, when he "pronounced" but had to fly into exile. Once more, in
1868, the Malagueiios took up arms upon the losing side, fighting for the dethroned
Isabella Segunda against the successful soldiers who had driven her from Madrid.
Malaga was long and obstinately defended, but eventually succumbed after a sanguinary
struggle. Last of all, after the abdication of Amadeus in 1873, the Eepublicans of
Malaga rose, and carried their excesses so far as to establish a Communistic regime,
which terrorised the town. The troops disbanded themselves, their weapons were
seized by the worst elements of the population, who held the reins of power, the
local aiithorities having taken to flight. The mob laid hands on the custom-house
and all public moneys, levied contributions upon the more peaceable citizens, then
quarrelled among themselves and fought out their battles in the streets, sweeping
them with artillery fire, and threatening a general bombardment. Order was not
easily restored or without the display of armed force, but the condign punishment of
the more blameworthy has kept Malaga quiet ever since.

While the male sex among the masses of Malaga enjoy an indifferent reputation,
her daughters of all classes are famed for their attractiveness, even in Spain, the
home, par excellence, of a well-favoured race. " Muchachas Malaguenas, muy
halagueuas " (the girls of Malaga are most bewitching) is a proverbial expression, the
truth of which has been attested by many appreciative observers. Theophile Gautier's
description of them is perhaps the most complimentary. The Malagueila, he tells
us, is remarkable for the even tone of her complexion (the cheek having no more
colour than the forehead), the rich crimson of her lips, the delicacy of her nostril,
and above all the brilliancy of her Arab eyes, which might be tinged with henna,
they are so languorous and so almond-shaped. " I cannot tell whether or not it was
the red draperies of their headgear, but their faces exhibited gravity combined with
passion that was quite Oriental in character." Gautier drew this picture of the
Malaguenas as he saw them at a bull-fight, and he expresses a not unnatural
surprise that sweet, Madonna-like faces, which might well inspire the painter of
sacred subjects, should look on unmoved at the ghastly episodes of the blood-stained
ring. It shocked him to see the deep interest with which these pale beauties

L16

////; i'K "ri'iti-:w t )i'i-: MEDITERRANEAN.

follow,.,! tlu- fight, to li.-ai- the feats of the arena discussed by s\veet lips that might
B peak more suitably of softer things. Yet he found them simple, tender-hearted,
good, and concluded that it was not cruelty of disposition but the custom of
the country that drew them to this savage show. Since then the bull-tight,
shorn, however, of its worst horrors, has become acclimatised and most popular
amidst M. (iautier's own country-women in Paris. That the beauty of the higher
ranks rivals that of the lowest may be inferred from the fact that a lady whose
ohanns were once celebrated throughout Europe is of Malaguenau descent. The

Malaga Harbour.

mother of the Empress Eugenie, who shared with Napoleon III. the highest honours
in France, was a Malaga girl, a Miss Fitzpatrick, the daughter of the British consul,
but she had also Spanish blood in her veins.

Malaga might count on a prosperous future if she had a more commodious
and more trustworthy port. The great complaint against the harbour is the steady
retrocession of the sea. One cause of this is said to he the city river, the Guadel-
nu'dina, which traverses the town, and although almost an empty watercourse during
drought, wintry floods in the upper lands convert it into a raging torrent laden with
solid detritus. These deposits are gradually filling up the harbour, continuing the
process which left the old Moorish mole and the Moorish arsenal, the Ataranza, far
inland. A century ago the site of the Alameda, now a gay promenade shaded by
well -grown trees, was still submerged under the sea. An admirable project for the
improvement of the port by cleansing and deepening it was prepared some years
ago, and would have done wonders for Malaga. But difficulties supervened, litigation

H
(0

5
K

DC
<<
U

[18 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

delayed the undertaking, and probably it will never be carried oi;t now. A near
neighbour and old rival, as richly endowed, may again pass Malaga in the great race for
commercial expansion. This is Almeria, which lies farther eastward and which owns
many natural advantages; its exposed port has been improved by the construction
of piers and breakwaters, and it now offers a secure haven to the shipping that
should ere long be attracted in increasing tonnage to carry away the rich products
of the neighbouring districts. Almeria is the capital of a province teeming with
mineral wealth, and whose climate and soil favour the growth of the most varied and
valuable crops. The silver mines of the mountains of Murcia and the fertile valleys
of the Alpuj arras would find their best outlet at Almeria, while Granada would once
more serve as its farm. So ran the old proverb, "When Almeria was really Almeria,
Granada was only its alqueria," or source of supply. What this time-honoured
but almost forgotten city most needs is to be brought into touch with the railway
systems of Spain. Several lines projected for this purpose are now in progress;
but the work, which has already received State assistance to the extent of
twenty-five per cent, on the total estimated cost, is slow and still uncompleted.
Meanwhile, Almeria, awaiting better fortune, thrives on the exports of its own
products, chief among which are grapes and esparto. The first has a familiar
sound to British ears, from the green grapes known as " Almerias," which are
largely consumed in British households. These are not equal to the delicately

flavoured Muscatels, but they are stronger and will bear the packing and rough

usages of exportation under which the others perish. Esparto is a natural product
of these favoured lands, which, after long supplying local wants, has now become an
esteemed item in our list of British imports. It is known to botanists as the
Spanish rush, or bass feather grass, the Genet d'Espagne, and is compared by Ford
to the "spear grass which grows on the sandy sea-shores of Lancashire." It is
still manufactured, as in the days of Pliny, into matting, baskets, ropes, and the
soles for the celebrated Alpargatas, or rope sandal shoes, worn universally by Spanish
peasants in the south and Spanish soldiers on the line of march. The ease and
speed with which the Spanish infantry cover long distances are greatly attributed
to their comfortable chaussures. Nowadays a much wider outlet has been found
for esparto grass. When rags became more and more scarce and unequal to the
demands of the paper-makers, experiments were made with various substitutes, and
none answered the purpose better than the wild spear-grass of southern Spain. It
is now grown artificially, and forms a principal export.

Almeria, while awaiting the return of maritime prosperity, can look with some
complacency upon a memorable if not altogether glorious past. Its very names,
Portus Magnus under the Komans, and Al Meriah, the " Conspicuous," under the
Moors, attest its importance. All the agricultural produce of the prolific Vega, the

MALAGA.

119

silks that were woven on Moorish looms and highly prized through the East, were
brought to Almeria for transmission ahroad. The security and convenience of this
famous port gave it an evil reputation in after years, when it became an independent
kingdom under Ibn Maymum. Almeria was the terror of the Mediterranean ; its pirate
galleys roved to and fro, making descents upon the French and Italian coasts, and
carrying back their booty, slaves, and prizes to their impregnable home. Spaniards
and Genoese presently combined against the common enemy, and Almeria was one of
the earliest Christian conquests regained from the Moors. Later still the Algerian
Moors took fresh revenge, and their corsairs so constantly threatened Almeria that

Waggons with Esparlo Grass at Almeria.

Charles V. repaired its ancient fortifications, the old Moorish castle now called the
Alcazaba, the centre or keep, and hung a great tocsin bell upon its cathedral tower
to give notice of the pirates' approach. This cathedral is the most imposing object
in the decayed and impoverished town. Pigs and poultry roam at large in the
streets, amidst dirt and refuse ; but in the strong sunlight, white and blinding as
in Africa, the mean houses glisten brightly, and the abundant colour seen on
awnings and lattice, upon the women's skirts and kerchiefs, in the ultramarine sea,
is brought out in the most vivid and beautiful relief.

The scenery on the coast from Malaga eastward is fine, in some parts and
under certain aspects magnificent. Beyond Almeria is the famous Cape de Gatt, as
it is known to our mariners, the Cabo de Gata of local parlance, the Agate
Cape, to give it its precise meaning. This remarkable promontory, composed of
rocks encrusted with gems, is worthy of a place in the "Arabian Nights." There
are miles and miles of agates and crystal spar, and in One particular spot amethysts
are found. Wild winds gather and constantly bluster about this richly constituted

120

Till-: PICTl T BESQUE M EDIT Kill!. I NK 1 .V.

luit often storm-tossed landmark. Old sailor s:i\vs have perpetuated its character in
the Conn of a proverb, "At the Cape de (ln.lt lake care of your hat." Other
portions of the coast nearer Malaga are still more forbidding and dangerous:
under the Sierra Tejadn, for example, \vliere the rocky liarriers which guard the
land rise tier almve tier as straight as a wall, in which there are no openings, no
havens of safety for passing craft in an inshore gale. Behind all, a dim outline
joining hands as it were with the clouds, lowers the great snowy range of southern
Spain, the Sierra Nevada, rejoicing in an elevation as high as the Swiss Alps, and
in some respects far more beautiful.

There are, however, no such grim glaciers, no such vast snow-fields as in
Swit/erland, for here in the south the sun has more power, and even at these
heights only the peaks and pinnacles wear white crests during the summer heats.
This more genial temperature encourages a richer vegetation, and makes the ascents
less perilous and toilsome. A member of the Alpine Club would laugh to scorn
the conquest of Muley Hacen, or of the Picacho de la Veleta, the two crowning
peaks of the range. The enterprise is within the compass of the most moderate
effort. The ascent of the last-named and lowest, although the most picturesque,
is the easiest made, because the road from Granada is most direct. In both cases
the greatest part of the climbing is performed on horseback ; but this must be
done a day in advance, and thus a night has to be passed near the summit under
the stars. The temperature is low, and the travellers can only defend themselves

I'lii Cal/icttrai, Almena.

MALAGA.

121

A bit of A I mer ia ; Capo di Gala in
the distance.

against the cold by the wraps they have brought and the fuel they can find (mere
knotted roots) around their windy shelter. The ascent to where the snow still
lingers, in very dirty and disreputable patches, is usually commenced about two in
the morning, so that the top may be reached before dawn. If the sky is clear,
sunrise from the Picacho is a scene that can never be forgotten, fairly competing
with, if not outrivalling, the most famous views of the kind. The Mediterranean
lies below like a lake, bounded to the north and west by the Spanish coast, to the
south by the African, the faintest outlines of which may often be seen in the far,
dim distance. Eastward the horizon is made glorious by the bright pageants of the
rising sun, whose majestic approach is heralded by rainbow-hued clouds. All around
are the strangely jagged and contorted peaks, rolling down in diminishing grandeur
to the lower peaks that seem to rise from the sea.

The highest peak of the Sierra Nevada is Muley Hacen, although it has only
the advantage over the Picacho de la Veleta by about a couple of hundred feet. It
is a longer and more difficult ascent, but in some ways the most interesting, as it
can best be reached through the Alpujarras, those romantic and secluded valleys
which are full of picturesque scenery and of historical associations. The starting
point, as a general rule, is Trevelez, although the ascent may be equally made from
Portugos, somewhat nearer Granada. Trevelez is the other side and the most
convenient coming from Malaga by way of Motril. But no one would take the
latter route who could travel by the former, which leads through Alhendin, that
well-known village which is said to have seen the last of the departing Moors. This
is the point at which Granada is finally lost to view, and it was here that Boabdil,
the last king of Granada, took his last farewell of the city whose loss he wept
over, under the scathing sarcasm of his more heroic mother, who told him he

122

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

might well " weep like a \voinau for what he could not defend as a man." Near
this village is the little hill still known as the site of "El Ultimo Suspiro del Moro,
the last sigli of the Moor." This same road leads through Laujaron, an enchanting
spot, posted high upon a spur of the hills, and famous as a bathing place with
health-giving mineral springs. From Portugos or Trevelez the climb is easy enough :
to be accomplished a great part of the way on horseback, and in its earlier levels
ascending amid forests of evergreen oak ; after that, long wastes of barren rock are
passed, till at length the summit is reached, on a narrow strip of table-land,
the highest in Southern Europe, and with an unrivalled view. The charm of the
Muley Hacen peak is its isolation, while the- Picacho looks better from it than
Muley Hacen does from the Picacho, and there is a longer vista across the

Mediterranean Sea.

ARTHUH GRIFFITHS.

Packing Lemons at Pizzaria, near Malaga.

Corfu.

THE IONIAN ISLANDS.

TT^EW scenes in the world are more strikingly magnificent and more historically
interesting than that on which one looks from the flag-staff battery of the
Citadel of Corfu, the battery on the higher of the twin peaks, the Aerice Phceacum
arces of Virgil, which are covered now with the vast and massive fortifications,
memorials both of the Venetian and of the British protectorates of the Ionian
Islands. The rocks of the Citadel rise so sheer from the sea that Nelson's plan
for taking it was to run a ship ashore, and then scale and assault the fortress from
fore- main- and mizen-topgallant yards. Such were the audacities planned, and
such were also the audacities achieved, by British admirals in the Napoleonic wars.
But the stern grandeur of the rocky staircases, barracks, dungeons, and bastions is
relieved by the green foliage here and there of fig-trees and cypresses ; and very
pleasant is thus the scene immediately around and below us. But look, now, abroad.
One sees at once the meaning both of Ape-navy, one of the ancient names of the
island, and of its modern name, Corfu. The latter is an Italian corruption of Kopufoa,
the Byzantine name for the island with the Citadel of Peaks, Kopvfyal; and the
former name means the " Sickle." And seeing the island here in its whole length,
from Pantoknitor, or San Salvador, its great northern mountain, to Amphipagos, or

'/'///; PICTUltKSQUE MEDITEEEANEAN.

Cape I'i;i!io), its southern ])roiiioiitory, we see that it is really curved like a sickle,
w jtli the city ami citadel of Corfu jutting out from the middle of its sharp edge,
it-, inner, or concave line. There is thus so narrow a strait between the two
promontories of the island and the mainland that the sea within the curve appears
like a land-locked lake. But what a lake! and what a line of enclosing hills!
Truly, it is only this Ionian Sea, with its liquid sapphires flashing in countless
gleams of light, that enables one fully to understand what .Kschylos meant by his

" Innumerable laughter of sea- wave*."

And the enclosing bills that rise so steeply from the gleaming shore are the
mountains of Albania, on which Childe Harold looked :

" Dusky and huge, enlarging on the sight,
Nature's volcanic amphitheatre,
Chimera's Alps extend to left and right."

But as historically interesting as strikingly magnificent is the scene beheld
from the citadel of Corfu. We know from Thucydides that there was an established
tradition in his time which identified the island with the Homeric Scheria, and its
capital with the city of the Homeric Phasecians ; and the tradition has been persistent
to this day, notwithstanding the scepticism of a few ancient as well as modern
critics. Nor is the persistency of such a tradition to be wondered at, seeing that

Homer's description of the city of the Phaeeciana so remarkably corresponds with

the actual characteristics of the classical Korkyra and modern Corfu. Thus it runs,
in Messrs. Butcher and Lang's translation, which I shall use throughout this article
in my quotations from the Odyssey : " There is a fair haven on either side of the
town, and narrow is the isthmus, and curved ships are drawn up on both sides of
the way ; for all the folk have stations for their vessels, each man one for himself.
And there is the Agore about the goodly temple of Poseidon. . . . For the
Phaeecians care not for bow nor quiver, but for masts and oars of ships, and gallant
barks, wherein, rejoicing, they cross the grey sea." No doubt modern criticism has
shown that the Odyssey is not merely a synthesis of epics (one, for instance, on the
return of Odysseus, and another on the adventures of Telemachus), but that these
elementary epics were syntheses of current stories, of which the Phseecian story in
particular exists in a rough form in a collection of Indian folk-tales, a collection
dating as far back apparently as the twelfth century B.C. Still it may very well be
that the poet, in weaving this old folk-story into his epic, sketched the scene of it,
or some at least of its features, from some place which he had either visited or had
heard described. "Why," as the late Mr. Herman Merivale pertinently asked, "the
double haven and the narrow isthmus, and the very characteristic feature of the ships
drawn up on each side of the road along it, unless the poet had here some real

THE IONIAN ISLANDS.

125

spot in liis eye?" This will appear still more probable when wo come to Ithaca,
and find how extraordinarily accurate are the bard's descriptions there. He must
certainly have been in Ithaca, and there lit' may well have heard described the more
characteristic features of the ancient island of the Liburniaus. But not only is
the Homeric Scheria thus probably identified with an actual island, but the Homeric
Plueecians may be probably
identified with an actual
people. Welcker supposed
that they were the poet's
own Ionian fellow-country-
men ; and Professor Mahaffy
thinks that they were more
probably the Phokaeans ; but
Colonel Mure's conclusion,
that by the Phseecians the
Phoenicians were meant,
seems to me far more prob-
able- And, as he remarks,*
the similarity of the epithets
applied to Phsecians and
Phoenicians "would be sharp-
ened by the punning con-
nection, in the true spirit of
Homeric humour, between the
names ^a^/ce? and $oiWe?." I
must, however, add an ob-
servation which, as I think,
is of considerable importance.
Mr. Flinders Pe trie's " Kacial
Types from Egypt," in which
he gives photographs of

ancient Egyptian ethnographic portraits of the peoples of the Levant of juul anterior
to the fourteenth century B.C., appear to me to have, in conjunction with certain
other facts, conclusively shown that the Phoenicians, though they spoke a Semitic
language, were not a Semitic race.

Korkyra, anciently the usual local name for Corfu, first appears as Kepwpa in
Herodotus and Thucydides, and it is in this Attic form that the ancient name has
been revived, and is now commonly used. The cities, however, which successively

* "History of Greek Literature."

'ft

The Gate of Corfu.

120

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

i, r :i\f tlic names of Kopicvpa and of Kopvifxo to the island, seem to have occupied different
sites. Tlie Kerkyra of Herodotus and of Thueydides appears to have been situated
on the hilly peninsula bet \veeu the two harbours that lie behind the modern town,
the bays of Kastrudes and Kalichiopoulo, the latter the Hyllaic harbour of Thueydides.
It was on this peninsula, still known as Palaeopolis, that the Corinthians founded the
ancient town in the eighth century B.C., the Kerkyra which played so great a part
in the beginning of the Pelopounesian War (-131 404 B.C.), and which seems to have
existed till the desolating invasion of Totilas in the sixth century A.D. The
twin-peaked hill of the modern citadel probably represents the island opposite the
Heraion, or Temple of Here ; the island of Vido, Ptychia ; and that upper part of

Cape Ditcato.

the peninsula, of which the chief building is now the villa of the king and former
casino of the British Lord High Commissioner, seems to have been the quarter
occupied by the Demos of the Thucydidiau city. For the oligarchic party were the
merchant-princes, and they dwelt beside their ships on the low ground along the
bay of Kastrades, and there was the Agora, and visible from it were the Tombs,
of which one, that of Menekrates, is still to be seen. And this was the wealthy
Lower Town which was set on fire during the fierce conflict of its merchant princes
with the democracy of the Upper Town. Little permanent damage, however, was
done by this Civil War, if we can believe the picture drawn of the island in
373 B.C. by Xeuophon. In 229 B.C. Kerkyra lost its independence under a
Koinan Protectorate; and when the seat of the Roman Empire was removed to
Constantinople, the island became attached to its eastern division.

Since the time at least of the Crusades all the historical associations of Corfu
are with episodes of the age-long war between Europe and Asia. From Corfu llichard
Coeur de Lion took ship on his return home after his victorious conclusion of the

e
o
o

Q
<

I
h

I'K "rrilKSQUE MEDITKlti:. I NEA .V.

Third Crusade (11.):>), and it was this voyage that was the beginning of the
adventures which, after two shipwrecks, terminated in the discovery at Vienna that
"Hugh the Merchant" was the great Richard of England, Ireland, and half France,
and in his consequent imprisonment and holding to ransom. In the partition of the
Greek Hmpire, the result of the Fourth Crusade, Corfu was annexed by the Latin
kind's of Naples (12(54); but in 1386 the Corfiotes implored the protection of the
Imperial Republic of Venice. The local legend explains the Corfiote device of a
rudderless boat by a story of how the deputation, having gone to sea in such a
vessel, resolved to consider those to whom wind and waves should first drift them
their God-appointed protectors. During four centuries, till the fall of the Republic
in the Napoleonic wars (1797), Corfu was a dependency of Venice. When
Constantinople fell, in 1453, and all south-eastern Europe was overrun by the Turks,
Corfu, under the Venetians, remained an impregnable bulwark of Christendom.
Thrice it defied the whole power of the Ottomans, in 1537, 1570, and, above all, in
1710, when the Lords of the Mainland made their last great attempt to extend the
sway of Islam in Europe. Thus, across this narrow, sapphire-gleaming strait, Europe
has for nearly five hundred years confronted a hostile Asia. And so it is still. From
the citadel one may see near a low, isolated hill, over which the higher mountains
tower, the mouth of the river Kalamas, at which begins what is called on the
official maps of the " Turco-Greek frontier" the "rectification" proposed by the
Conference of 1880; and close by one may see, if not actually the vessels, the

anchorage, at least, of two ironclads of the Ottoman fleet, silent but significant
rejoinders to the proposal of " rectification."

Very curious and interesting, with their Italian style and Greek names, are the
narrow streets, with occasional balconies and arcades, as at Padua and Bologna, of
the modern capital of the island, modern, though its foundation probably dates back to
but a short time after that desolating invasion of Totilas in the sixth century A.D., in
which the ancient Korkyra seelns to have been destroyed. And now, from the long,
narrow, and crowded street, let us pass out of the town, under the archway of the
old Venetian town-gate, and past the vast mounds of the Venetian and British
fortifications, for one of many charming excursions into the country. We pass the
Bay of Govina, with its ruins of the Venetian arsenals and storehouses, and its memories
of the Turkish disembarkation and re-embarkation after their five or six weeks' desperate
but fruitless siege of Corfu in 1710. And our drive thence inland for some ten miles is
through almost continuous groves of olives, not, as in France and Italy, pruned and
trained orchard trees, but gnarled and massive forest trees. These olive groves, with
their fruit-laden branches, are interspersed with equally continuous vineyards, which,
when I drove through, were filled with peasants gathering into deep baskets, for which
ponies waited, an unusually abundant vintage. Olive groves and vineyards were set in

THE IONIAN ISLANDS.

129

ever-varying surroundings of hills, some terraced for vines and olives, others browsed
over by sheep and goats, with kilted Chimariot shepherds from Albania, carrying,
even here, their old-fashioned pistols. At length the varying scene reached a climax
of magnificently mingled grandeur and beauty. The hills struck out into the
glittering sea in sudden precipitous peninsulas, forming bays with inner curves of sandy
beach, close down to which were carried still the terraces of olives and vines.
Crowning one of these rocky peninsulas were the ruins of the feudal castle of St.
Angelo, built by a prince of the imperial family of Comnentts, who, in establishing

Vatliy, Ithaca.

himself as Despot of Albania, and transmitting his principality to his heirs, saved
for two centuries a fragment at least uf the Greek Empire from the Latin partition
(1204). And crowning another and nearer promontory was the ancient monastery,
founded, as its name imports, on the ruins of a fortress still more ancient, the goal
of our journey, the Monastery of Palseokastritza.

Leaving Corfu, and proceeding southward in our cruise through the Seven Islands,
we pass, or better, stop at, the little rocky island of Paxo, with its adjunct Antipaxo.
But the most picturesque thing about it, and which alone need here detain us, is
that famous legend told by Plutarch of a voyage made by Epitlierses (the father of
^Emilian the Rhetorician) to Italy. "When they were still not far from the Echinades
islands the wind fell, and they were drifting in the evening towards the islands of

L30

'/'///; /'/< -TCL'I'SQUE MEDlTEUll. 1 NE. I .V.

1'axi. Tlicn suddenly, as tin- passengers \vriv drinking after supper, a voice \vas heard
IVnin one of the islands calling on a certain Thainmus so loudly as to fill all with
ainaxenient. For tins Tliamnms was an Egyptian pilot known to but few on board.
Twice the voice called on him without response, hut the third time he replied; and
then the voice said: 'When tlioti comest over against Palodes, announce that the
Great Pan is dead ! ' Palodes lias with certainty been identified as the Bay of
Jiutrinto, on the Kpirote coast opposite Corfu, Butrinto, the ancient Buthrotum, the
scene of the meeting of /Kneas with Andromache, the widow of Hektor. The effect

Saints.

of the announcement there of- the death of Pan is alluded to by Milton in line*
which may, perhaps, even to Browningites, still sound grandly musical:

"The lonely mountains o'er,
And the resounding shore,

A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;

From haunted spring and dale,

Edged with poplar pale,
The parting genius is with sighing sent;

With flower-inwoven tresses torn,
The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn."

And as to the origin of the legend, might not voyagers actually have heard some
enthusiastic Epirote convert to Christianity on a still evening calling out from the
beach at Paxi, "Spread the tidings that the Great Pan is dead!"

i:5-j '/'///; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Cunt inning our voyage southward, we cast anchor off the old castle of Santa

.Maura, originally built by a Frank noble of the shameful Fourth Crusade, that

partitioned the Greek Fmpire instead of rescuing the Holy Sepulchre. The name

of the castle lias, since the thirteenth century, been extended to the whole island,

called Levkas (Leucas or Leucadia) by the Greeks. The view from the deck is, at

first, more puzzling than pleasing. This is caused by a spit of sand in the form

of an S, some four miles long, thrown up probably by an earthquake, and which is

only separated from the coast of Acarnania by a shallow lagoon. Santa Maura,

indeed, hardly appears to be an island at all, and originally was actually a

peninsula. On the mainland, to the left, the long, low promontory of Actium

juts northwards from under the Acarnanian mountains, enclosing the famous bay

within which lay for weeks the fleet of Antony and Cleopatra, "like floating castles,"

till clown swept the triremes of Augustus and attacked the great ships of Antony

as they were coming out of the strait (31 B.C.). And on the northern shore of

the Bay of Actium we now descry (for it is but nine or ten miles off, across a

narrow strait of gleaming sea) the domes and minarets of Preveza of the Moslems.

Presently disembarking, we proceed in a boat up a canal cut in the shallow lagoon

to the miserable little capital of the island, Amaxiclri ('AfjM&xiov), Cart-town. So

it was called from the carts or cars ("Arafat) on which the Venetians carried

down their oil and wine from the inland districts, and which were kept here.

Its houses are rarely more than two storeys high, and the upper one is constructed

of wood, on account of the frequent earthquakes.

There has been a question as to whether Levkas should not be identified with
the Homeric Doulichiou, which sent forty ships to the war against Troy. Strabo
supposed Douliciiion to be one of the Echinades, and most modern writers have
acquiesced in his conclusion, assuming that his epithet, " rich-iii-corn," applied to
the neighbouring tract of the mainland. "But," says Sir Edward Bunbury, "it
must be admitted that the explanation is a forced one, and it seems far more simple
to suppose that the island intended was that of Santa Maura; the only other large
island of the group, which was known in the historical ages of Greece as Leukas,
but is never mentioned by that name in Homer. On that supposition, the poet
would, in this instance, be free from geographical inaccuracies, and would enumerate
the three principal islands in the natural order of their occurrence." And in
reference to Strabo's epithet, it seems corroborative of this identification that two
of the islets, dependencies of Levkas, are, to this day, famous for their wheat,
which is the finest found in the Ionian Islands. So-called Cyclopean, or, as I
ould rather say, Archaian, walls cover many rocky eminences. The most ancient
these remains, on the heights commanding the former isthmus, probably mark
the Homeric Acropolis of Nerikos. And the more recent of these walls alon-

THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 133

the shore certainly belong to the Levkas, built in the seventh century B.C. by
the Corinthians, who cut through the isthmus and converted the peninsula into
an island.

Sappho's Leap at the south-west, and Mount Skaros at the south-east extremity
of the island, are the two great points of excursion from Amaxikhi. On starting
for either the one or the other excursion, our road at first lies through the delicious
shades of a vast olive-grove which stretches up from the shallow lagoon to the
foot of steeply-rising mountains. Let us take the longer excursion first, that to
the ruins of the Temple of Apollo, on the summit of the White Cape Jeworres,
now Cape Ducato, from which Sappho is said to have taken her despairing leap.
As we ride along, the country often recalls to me Palestine ; the same stony hills
and basin-like glens, but all terraced here with vineyards, which are filled with
grape-harvesters. But from the scenery our attention is soon drawn to the parties
of peasants we meet, driving asses and mules laden with a couple of wine-filled
goat-skins apiece. The dress of the men consists of footless white hose, light-blue
bags falling to the knee and drawn together at the waist, darker blue waistcoat
and short jacket, the latter generally off, and on the head a straw hat, or, oftener
perhaps, merely a red or blue kerchief. Of a light blue also are the petticoats of
the women, and of a darker blue the large kerchief worn on the head, drawn
under the chin, and falling down over the shoulders, while very low bodices leave
it only to a white chemise to veil the full, swelling bosom of many a /3a6uKo\-n-o<; Koprj.
Fine figures they have too, as they glide along, wonderfully erect, carrying on their
heads deep hampers filled with dozens of pounds of grapes.

After an eight or nine hours' ride along the hills of the west coast, or across
the central heights, we reach at length the goal of our pilgrimage. As to ^Eneas,

" Mox et Leucata: niml>osa cacumina mentis,
Et formidatus nautis aperitur Apollo."

But we find only the substructures of the temple, a quantity of broken glass and
pottery, and, with good fortune, perhaps, a coin bearing a harp, the symbol of the
God. Looking down, we see a white cliff rising on one side perpendicularly
some two hundred feet out of the sea, and on the other side sloping precipitously.
Down this cliff slaves and criminals were cast as expiatory sacrifices. But when
precipitation from this height served as an ordeal, or appeal to the judgment of God,
the persons making this appeal got themselves covered with wings and feathers of
birds, and had boats in waiting to pick them up. The priests of Apollo are said
to have known how to take this perilous leap without danger. And possibly it
may have been these customs only that were the basis of the story of the death
of Sappho. But it was in the midst of the political revolution which ended the

'////; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

of the Pharaohs, and of the synchronous intellectual revolution that may be
indicated hy the names of Tliales, Xenoplianes, and Pythagoras, that

"Burning Sappho lined and sung."

And, as Colonel .Mure thinks, quite possibly, so far as we yet know, in her grand
climacteric, deserted by Pinion, and never having been beautiful save with the
radiance of intellect, she may have come hither from Sicily, whither she had
followed him, and plunged from the Apollo-consecrated Leukadian cliff into the
eddying deep, she and her Lesbian lyre.

Passing the night at the village of Attani, and returning the next day to
Amaxikhi, we may, on the following day, set out on the other great Leukadian
excursion. After a ride of three or four hours, latterly under the overarching boughs
of a primeval oak-forest, we suddenly emerge on the open lawns and rocks of the
sunny brow and summit of Skaros. A magnificent scene greets our eyes. A sapphire
sea, with hilly isles innumerable, and a mountainous mainland extending from
Peloponnesus to Pindus in Albania. North and south gleam two of the greatest
sea-battle scenes of the long war between Europe and Asia : on the north the Gulf
of Actium (31 B.C.), and on the south the Gulf of Lepanto (1571). And in the deep
blue sea at our feet, between Levkas and the mainland, are the three small islands
(Meganisi, Kalamo, and Kustos) traditionally identified with those of the trading or

Argosloli, Cfphaloiiia.

THE IONIAN ISLANDS.

135

piratical Tapliians of the Odyssey. Beside these small Homeric islands, and amid
all the historic scenes I have just indicated, is the island of Maduvi, a favourite
retreat of the famous modern Greek poet of Levkas, Aristoteles Valaorites. In the far
distance to the north he might look on Pindus, that towers over the Lake of loannina,
the scene of that tragedy of the time of Ali Pasha, immortalised in one of his finest
poems, "The Lady Phrosyne;" and likewise on those mountains of Soiili, the scene

Windmills, Ithaca.

of that heroic life and heroic death of Samuel the Kaloyer, or Monk, also celebrated
by him in a poem worthy of its theme. But now look to the south-west. There
we behold the Homeric islands of Ithaca, Samos, or Kephallonia, and Zacynthos, or
Zante, which sent contingents to the Trojan war under the leadership of the supreme
chief, Odysseus, the islands towards which our cruise must now be steered.

Ithaca, called by the modern Greeks Thiaki, is in its name another witness to
a Phoenician, previous to the Hellenic, occupation of these islands ; and another
witness, therefore, to the probability above indicated, that by the Plueecians

l.;i, THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

l!<>mer meant the Phoenicians. For the name appears to have heen originally
identical with Utica, of which the meaning in Phc'incian was " Colony." On its
eastern side the island is almost divided in two by the Gulf of Molo, from which
opens, on the left, a deep horseshoe bay, round the end of which runs the little
modern capital of Vathy, its name in Greek, Ba6u, "deep," indicating its situation,
far at the eud of the bay. It is a most picturesque, out-of-the-world looking little town,
with rugged mountains behind it, and in front an islet covered with houses, which
shuts out the view of the sea beyond. Of that outer sea, however, there are speaking
witnesses in the big ships moored close alongside the houses. And the inhabitants of
the town, some three thousand in number, are, like the inhabitants of the island
generally, some twelve thousand, almost all owners of at least some roods of land
and some shares in a ship. But the island has no history save that attaching to
Odysseus, its ancient chief. Its very name is scarcely mentioned by any historical
writer ; in 1504 A.D. it appears to have been nearly, if not quite, uninhabited ; and
its capital, Vathy, is but a century old. All these facts, however, only make it
more exclusively and sacredly Homeric. And curiously enough, it is as central
in geographical position as it is in traditional interest. North of it are Corfu,
Paxo, and Levkas ; and south of it Cephalonia, Zante, and Cerigo ; and, as
\ve shall see, the descriptions in the Odyssey, not only of the island generally,
but of special localities, are so extraordinarily in accordance with what we may
still observe after the lapse of three thousand years, t as to make it highly
probable that in visiting these localities we visit places which w : ere actually
trodden by the bard of. the Odyssey, and which probably looked to his eye
very much as they do to ours, save, perhaps, in the absence now of ancient
forests. Nor were the old Greeks less struck with Homer's accuracy in describing
Ithake than is the modern traveller. For it was mainly the recognition of this
loving accuracy that led to the support of the claim of Ithaca to be the birthplace
of Homer, and to the occurrence of its name in the famous line enumerating the
seven cities which pretended to that honour :

" Smyrna, Khios, Kolojilion, Ithaca, Argos, Athenai, and Athens."

Now in our tour of the island let us follow the story of the adventures of
Odysseus after he was landed in Ithaca by the Phasecians. But first let me say
that Homer's representation that the voyage from Scheria occupied but a single
night is little, if at all, beyond the bounds of possibility, if Scheria is identified
with Corfu. For there is an authentic record of a voyage made in a single day
from Ithaca to Corfu by the British Resident during our Protectorate, in one of the
coasting boats of the island, which, in build and rig, are still very like the ancient
galleys. And hence, seeing that "even as on a plain a yoke of four stallions comes

THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 137

springing all together beneath the lash, leaping high and speedily accomplishing
the way, so leaped the stern of that ship, and the dark wave of the sounding sea
rushed mightily in the wake," quite possibly the ship of the Phaaecians, in which
Odysseus " slept in peace, forgetful of all that he had suffered," drew nigh at
early dawn to where " in the land of Ithaca is a certain haven of Phorcys, the
ancient one of the sea." It is a haven on our left as we sail down the great
gulf of Molo, a haven called Dexia from being to the right of the opening into
the deep bay of Vathy. "At the harbour's head is a long-leaved olive tree, and
hard by is a pleasant cave and shadowy, sacred to the Nymphs that are called
Naiads. . . . Whither they, as having knowledge of that place, let drive their
ship ; and the vessel in full course ran ashore, half her keel's length high. . .
Then they lifted Odysseus from out the hollow ship, all as he was in the sheet of
linen and the bright rug, and laid him, yet heavy with slumber, on the sand. And
they took forth the gifts which the lordly Phagecians had given him, . . . and
set them in a heap by the trunk of the olive tree, a little aside from the road.
. . . Then themselves departed homeward again."

When Odysseus awoke " he knew not his native land again, having now been
long afar, and around him Pallas Athene had shed a mist." But the very objects
by which the Goddess convinces him that lie is verily again in Ithaca must convince
us that the land-locked bay of Dexia is the Odyssean " haven of Phorcys." For we,
too, may see directly opposite, across the gulf of Molo, the hill of Neritou, pointed
out by the Goddess ; and near the beach not only a cave, but just such a cave as
that described as " sacred to the nymphs that are called the Naiads." According
to Homer's description, " two gates there are to the cave, the one set toward the
north wind, whereby men may go down ; but the portals toward the south pertain
rather to the Gods, whereby men may not enter." And, says Schliemann, " all this
is true ; but by the entrance for the Gods he means the artificially cut hole in the
vault of the grotto, which must have served as a chimney to carry off the smoke of
the artificial fires." Again, says Homer, there are in the cave "mixing bowls and
jars of stone, and great looms of stone, wherein the Nymphs weave raiment of
purple stain, a marvel to behold." And " from the vault of the grotto," says
Schliemann, "hang innumerable stalactites, which gave Homer the idea of the
stone urns and amphorae, and the stone frames and looms on which the Nymphs
wove purple-coloured mantles and veils." And, yet further, it may be noted that
from this cave there would be just such a rugged walk " up the wooded country
and through the heights " as was presently taken by Odysseus to the station of his
faithful swineherd Eumasos, at the extremity of the island nearest Peloponnesos.

Odysseus found this most faithful of his thralls " sitting at the front entry of the
house, where his courtyard was builded high in a place with wide prospect ; a great

L38

'/'///; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

court it. waa and a fair, with free range round it. ... And within the courtyard
he made twelve styes hard by one- another to he heds for the swine, and in each
stye fifty grovelling swine were penned. . . . And their tale was three hundred
and threescore. And by them slept four dogs as fierce as wild beasts. . . . And
of a sudden the baying dogs saw Odysseus, and they ran at him yelping," etc.

Now, about half a
dozen miles' walk
from the grotto of
the Nymphs there
actually are a num-
ber of enclosures like
stables, averaging
twenty - five feet in
length and ten in
breadth, partly cut
out of the rock,
partly formed by
Archaian walls of
huge, rudely- wrought
stones, which, we may
readily believe with
Schliemann, " must
have given to Homer
the idea for the
twelve pigstyes built
by the divine swine-
herd Eumseos." To
the east of the
stables, and just in
front of them, thou-
sands of very common but most ancient potsherds indicate the existence of an ancient
rustic habitation. And Schliemann, having excavated here, "found fragments of very
interesting, most ancient, unpainted pottery, and also of archaic pottery with rod
bands." Nor thus only may we identify the swineherd's dwelling where Odysseus, in
the guise of an old beggar, found his faithful thrall Eumseos, and where both were
afterwards joined by Telemachos, the sou of Odysseus. For grey-eyed Athene had
said to Odysseus that he should " find Eumseos sitting by the swine as they are
feeding near the Rock of Korax [the Eaven Eock] and the Spring of Arethusa, where
they eat abundance of acorns, and drink the black water, things that make in good

Zanfe.

THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 139

case the rich flesh of swine;" and to such a great rock Odysseus refers as close
at hand when lie says to Eumseos that, if his lord returns not, he may set
his thralls upon him [the seeming old heggar] , and cast him down from the
mighty rock, that another heggar in his turn may beware of deceiving." Now
such a rock, called to this day Korax, rises, in a white cliff of a hundred feet,
at hut a very short distance to the south of the enclosures just mentioned, and
near the sea ; and below this Raven Rock, in a recess, is a natural and always
plentiful spring of pure water, traditionally identified with the Homeric Fountain of
Arethusa.

And now let us follow Odysseus, as by "the swineherd he is led to the city
in the guise of a beggar, a wretched man and an old, leaning on a staff."
Having passed " the fair flowing spring, with a basin fashioned, whence the people
of the city drew water," they came to the house of the prince. " And Odysseus
caught the swineherd by the hand, and spake, saying : ' Eumaeos, verily this is the
fair house of Odysseus, and right easily might it be known even were it seen
among many. There is building upon building, and the court of the house is
cunningly wrought with a wall and battlements, and well fenced are the folding
doors.' 1 Can this chief of all the Homeric localities of Ithaca be identified? With
considerable certainty, apparently. For Schliemann's excavations have confirmed Sir
William Gell's identification (1800) of the Castle of Odysseus with the grand Archaian
ruins which crown the summit of the steep hill which rises from the narrow isthmus
between those northern and southern divisions of the island which, stretching out
from the isthmus, and having the Gulf of Molo between them, give to the hill of
the isthmus such a likeness to the body of a great bird with outstretched wings
that it is called Aetos, " The Eagle." From the dwellings of the swineherds in the
southern division of the island there would have been just such a walk as the
Homeric narrative leads us to imagine to the " fair house of Odysseus," if here it was
situated 011 Mount Aetos. The hill, with windmills on its sides, rises to the height
of six hundred feet above the sea, and had on its summit a level quadrangular
platform 166 feet long by 127 feet broad, so that there was ample room for the
"building upon building" mentioned by Homer. To the north and south of the
circuit wall are towers of Archaian masonry, from each of which a huge wall of
immense stones runs down ; and two other such walls also run down, the one in
an easterly, the other in a south-easterly direction. To increase the strength of the
place, the foot of the hill was cut away so as to form a perpendicular rock twenty
feet high. Three gates can be recognised in the walls. And between them there
once stood a city which, according to Dr. Schliemann's calculation, " may have
contained two thousand houses, either cut out of the rock or built of Cyclopean
masonry." But the reader must not imagine that this city and citadel, of an

110

7 ///; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

architecture similar to that of Mykenae and Tiryns, and differing from it only in the
greater size of the stones used for the houses, was huilt hy Odysseus, or even hy
Greeks. It belonged to an anterior civilisation, of the arts and monuments of
\\liich the Greeks succeeded in possessing themselves.

The three
remaining Is-
lands of the Seven need
not, all put together, detain
us so long as each of the more
historic islands, Corfu, Santa
Maura, or Levkas, and Ithaca.
For their picturesqueness is
more of that physical kind of
which an idea is better con-
veyed by pictures than by
words. Even Cephalonia, the
largest of all the Seven Islands,
has nothing like such historical
picturesqueuess as the little island of Ithaca, from which it is separated but by
a narrow channel. It is mentioned, indeed, by Homer under the name of S;im.'
or Samos, the name, properly speaking, of its capital city; and he speaks of its
inhabitants as Kephallenians (Ke^aXXiJiW), and as subjects of Odysseus. Its later
history was similar to that of the other islands. Reduced by the Romans (ISO n.c.),
it became attached, on the division of the Roman Empire, to its eastern provinces,
and remained subject to the Byzantine Empire till the twelfth century, when it

On the Hill beyond Zante.

1 1-J

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

into the hands of various Latin princes, and finally under the sway of Venice.
Of the four ancient cities of Cephalonia, of which ruins still exist, those of the
Homeric Samos are not only the most interesting, but the most extensive. It was
built near the shore of a bay, from which, near a modern village, a ferryboat now
crosses the channel to Ithaca. At the north-east extremity of the ancient city are

the Archaian
remains of the
two citadels of
Samos, sepa-
rated by a nar-
row valley, as
described by
Livy in his
account of the
four months'
siege conducted
by the Roman
Consul in 189
B.C. Situated,
as the broad
and sheltered

harbour of Samos was, on the strait which
affords the most direct communication
between the Adriatic and the Gulf of
Corinth, its possession was essential for
the Roman conquest of Greece ; and

Roman, as well as Hellenic and Archaian remains are therefore found on the site
of Samos. The modern capital, Argostoli, occupies a far less eligible site than the
ancient metropolis. It is situated on the western coast, on the shore of a bay of
the gulf that runs deeply into the island from the south. In this retired position it
is entirely shut out from any view of the open sea, and stretches about a mile along
excellent quays, which form a promenade for its eight thousand or so of inhabitants.
Nearly all the public buildings in Argostoli, and all the splendid roads throughout the
island, are the work of Sir Charles Napier when British Resident. But among the
picturesque features of Cephalonia the most striking of all is the classical Mount
.Enos, rising to the height of 5,380 feet, and now called the Black Mountain, from the
dark pine forests with which it is partly covered. And among various singular natural
phenomena, the most remarkable, perhaps, is the siibterranean passage into which the
sea flows near the entrance of the harbour, about a mile and a half from Argostoli.

THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 143

Zante is called by the Greeks, as it was by Homer, Zakynthos. Its history is
of little interest, but the beauty and fertility of the island, and the picturesque
situation of its capital on the shore of a semicircular bay, have been celebrated
in all ages. Theocritus sang of it in his "Idylls"; and in the Italian proverb it
is called " The Flower of the Levant." The houses of the capital stretch along the
bay for a mile and a half, but only some three hundred yards inland, save where
they extend up the slope of the Castle hill ; and here, as at Corfu, there are
arcades reminding one of Bologna or of Padua. The Castle hill rises three hundred
and fifty feet above the level of the sea, and, except on its eastern side, which
has been disfigured by a landslip caused centuries ago by an earthquake, presents a
mass of groves, houses, and gardens in the most picturesque confusion. The view
from the ramparts is very extensive. Eastwards, particularly, spreads the long line
of the coast of Greece, from Missolonghi to Navarino, and in the blue distance are
the lofty mountains of Acarnania and 2Etolia, of Arcadia and Messenia. Above the
eastern extremity of the bay rises the jagged summit of Mount Skopos to the
height of thirteen hundred feet. Of old covered with pines, as its ancient name,
Mount Elatus, implies, it is now covered with groves of olive-, almond-, and orange-
trees. Towards the north, Cephalonia rises abruptly from the sea, with its Black
Mountain girt still with pines. From the western ramparts we look down on the
richest district of the island, a plain stretching from sea to sea, and varying in
breadth from one to eight miles. There are a few patches of corn- and pasture-
land, but the plain is almost entirely covered by a continuous vineyard of the
dwarf or currant grape, so called from having been earliest ciiltivated near Corinth,
and hence called liaisin de Corintlie. Zante, also, may boast of singular natural
phenomena, and particularly of the Pitch Wells mentioned by Herodotos, Pausanias,
and Pliny.

Santa Maura, or Levkas, Ithaca, Cephalonia, and Zakynthos, or Zante, all lie
close together. But from Zaute to Cerigo, the last of the Ionian Islands, which lies
directly off Cape Malea, the south-eastern promontory of Greece, there is a
considerably greater distance than from Corfu to Santa Maura. And on our voyage
from Zante to Cerigo we pass two groups of islets, the first dependent on Zante,
the second on Cerigo ; the former of mythological, the latter of political interest. For
the former are the Strophades, where 2Eneas had his adventure with the Harpies.
And the latter are the islets of Sapieuza and Cervi, the first commanding the harbour
of Methone, and the second the Bay of Vatika. The name Cerigo is probably a
softened form of Tzerigo, the name of some Slavonian chieftain who may have seized
the island when the neighbouring Peloponnesos was overrun by the Slavs. Its
Homeric name, however, and that which it still bears in modern Greek, is Kythera.
It was from this island that Aphrodite took her epithet of Kytherean, for here it was

1 II

THE

MEDITEllEANEAN.

that tin! Cinddess \\;is received when she arose from the ocean. lu other words, here
it was that Phu'iiicians, coming from the sea, first planted, in these western islands,
the worship of the Syrian and Assyrian Goddess of love and beauty. But of the site
of the temple of Aphrodite there appears to he no certain indication, though Pausanius
has recorded the magnificence of her shrine in Kythera. By no means, however,
is either the physical aspect of the island, or the moral character of its inhabitants,
such as we might imagine from the associations called up by the name of Aphrodite.
Though some parts produce corn, wine, and olive-oil, and the honey of Cerigo is
particularly esteemed, the island is rocky, mountainous, and in great part uncul-
tivated, and the inhabitants still deserve the character for industry and frugality
which they have borne from of old. The chief town, or rather village, Kapsali,
stands on a narrow ridge terminating in a precipitous rock crowned with a
mediaeval castle near the southern extremity of the island. And among the curiosities
of nature in this Kytherean isle are two stalactitic caverns of great beauty, the
one about two hours' ride from Kapsali, and the other in the sea-cliff at the entrance
to the beautiful glen of Mylopotamos. Midway between Ceiigo and Crete is the
little island of Cerigotto, as it is called by the Italians, or Lios, as it is named by
its inhabitants (some two-score families), but of which the ancient name was ^Egilia.
And here we may terminate our description of the more picturesque features, natural
and historical, of the Ionian Islands and Islets.

J. S. STUAET-GLENNIE.

The Island of Cerigo.

Cagliari.

SARDINIA.

TT is so easy to reach Sardinia, and yet the island is still in our day almost
as much shunned by the people of the continent as it was when the Romans
found it useful as a species of very mortal Botany Bay. Even the average
Italian knows nothing at all ahout it except that it has a capital called Cagliari,
and that some of its wines are not too had to drink. For the rest, he has a
vague idea that, in spite of all the fine talk about the march of civilisation, there
are still bandits enough in the island to keep him in a state of anxiety so long
as his evil genius should compel him to stay in it, and finally that its climate
has a bad reputation.

No doubt the fame of its insahibrity is the chief deterrent of visitors to this
great island, some ten thousand square miles in extent. The ancients gave it a
bad name in this respect, and it has not yet outlived the reproach. Two thousand
years ago Cicero warns his brother, whose official duties and debts have taken
him to Sardinia, to be very careful of his health ; nor must he be negligent
because it happens to be winter, when fevers are not supposed to walk abroad :
for, although it is winter, he is in Sardinia.

in; THE PlCTVfiESQUE Mi-:i>iri-:i,'i;. \\i-.\\.

Similiir evidence is offered by the Sardo poet Carboni, who, a century ago,
put the following wail into the mouth of the personification of his native land :
"0 immortal gods, if mortal things affect you, if you care aught for the concerns
of men, and can relieve their woes, behold me in my misery, and mark how
my dolorous and fatal disease makes of my life one never-ending struggle. I
beseech ye, gods, take away my shame from me ! "

Maltzan, who travelled three or four months in the island, diligently investigating
every characteristic feature of it, from its miraghe to its diseases, observes :
"Although I travelled in the healthiest season of the year during the whole time
I was in Sardinia, I was not well for a single day. This constrains me to
declare that there is not the least exaggeration in terming this island one of the
most unhealthy countries in the world."

For my part I have no such unpleasant recollections of the island's climate,
and I was in it during May and June. I travelled somewhat recklessly, and
during the day and the night indiscriminately ; and I earned, if ever man did, an
attack of fever or rheumatism, both among the commonplaces of experience in
Sardinia if rumour is to be believed. Nevertheless, I was troubled by neither.
In counterpoise, therefore, to the Baron von Maltzan's testimony as to his feelings
in the island, I may be permitted to say that I never felt better than when
wandering about the surface of this much-dreaded and, I believe, somewhat
defamed, province of Italy. Only once was I conscious of any of the symptoms
which seem to betray a malarious district. This was at 1 Oristano, which has a
very bad record. Here at sunset there was an indescribably uncomfortable feeling
in the air, and it seemed to produce just the faint kind of headache which the
natives term "micrania." That evening I adopted the Sarde precaution, and drank
more wine to my dinner than usual. The next morning I was in my customary
state of health.

This general neglect of Sardinia has not been without its advantages from certain
points of view. Of course, the tourist accustomed to a Grand Hotel d'Angleterre
wherever he goes will not like it. Even in Cagliari he would not feel at his ease ;
and I am sure he would soon lose all patience in the remote villages, where he
would find it a work of time and not a little tact to get himself bedded for the
night, though ever so roughly.

But, on the other hand, it has helped to keep the country in a picturesque
state, which is neither barbarism nor yet civilisation. Few countries anywhere are
so rich in peculiarities of costume. I began to have an inkling of it when I had
been in the island but a couple of hours. The steamer had set me ashore at Capo
Figari, where a train was waiting in the half-light of the dawn to proceed on its
long journey through the entire length of the island to the capital. A dark-eyed

SARDINIA. 147

woman, with a tangled mass of black hair blowing before the wind, her shoulders and
mouth covered with a scarlet shawl, and wearing a white skirt, held a pale-green
lantern-light for the guidance of the engine-driver. Other Sardes were soon declared
at the various railway stations : men in sheepskins, in vests and jackets of green or
lavender-coloured velvet or leather, and having guns in their hands ; and women in
gorgeous flowered silks, with a profusion of gold jewellery about their necks. The
effect was quite kaleidoscopic, and it was so charming and novel that for the time
I was oblivious of the spacious meadows through which we were steaming, and of
the striking appearance of the mountains beyond, with their dark heads hidden in
thunder-cloud.

It is riot so long ago that Sardinia was so deeply sunk in silly superstition that
the villagers of the interior positively rose in arms to oppose the making of the
great high-road which was to connect Cagliari in the south with Bassari and Terra
Nova in the north. Cagliari and Sassari had been rivals from the very beginning.
It was argued that terrible events would happen if by the agency of engineers they
were brought within easy reach of each other. And the same arguments were used
by villages and towns of the interior. Hitherto they had got along very well,
without more than an occasional quarrel with their neighbours. But there was no
saying what the high-road would bring forth. Besides, it would facilitate the
movements of the gendarmerie, who had brothers and sons belonging to innumerable
families on their list of outlaws to be shot or arrested as soon as possible.

Mark the state of Sardinia less than three-quarters of a century back. " No
high-roads, but lanes all broken up and muddy, or precipitous and rocky, and in
many places dangerous to travellers by reason of the bandits who infested them.
Hardly had the autumn rains begun when all connection was interrupted, not only
between one province and another, but even between neighbouring villages ; no
internal trade ; abundance in one town, scarcity in another ; the dwellers in one
street strangers to the dwellers in another ; and the Sardes themselves ignorant of
their own island. Hence civic strife, inveterate prejudices, scant sociability, a lack
of the conveniences of existence, a circumscribed and wretched life." This is an
admirable summary of Sarde existence to this day in the more mountainous parts
of the island. But the white roads are annually climbing more and more into
the midst of the wilder districts of Sardinia ; and now from Gennargentu, the
highest peak of Barbargia, one can trace them far and wide in a land which the
Komans and Carthaginians, the Spaniards who preceded the house of Savoy, and
the administrators of the princes of Piedmont, were all content to leave very
much to itself.

The white roads and the schools and the gendarmes, upon whom the traveller
is constantly chancing in the midst of the cork forests of the mountain slopes or the

1 IN

Till-: I'll 'TURESQUE MEDITEEEANEAN.

ravines of the Flumendosa, are doing their work slowly though surely. Even
now a brigand must be baited very temptingly if he is to be drawn into broad
daylight. And, at the worst estimate, the island is in a vastly more secure stale
than its neighbour Corsica.

In the variation of its population one may form some idea of the harassing
vicissitudes Sardinia has had to suffer. Before the time of the Roman Crcsars two
millions is the estimate of its inhabitants. This is no excessive number when one
remembers how rich in grain-growing the island has been from the earliest
recorded period. Without Sardinia Rome would at times have been near starvation.
In our own day landed investments here yield from ten to fifteen per cent, per annum.

But from the beginning of the Christian era the number of Sardinia's people
constantly decreased, until in 1G98 it was only 201,674. It was due to the ceaseless
warfare' in which the inhabitants were obliged to have a part. Pisa and Genoa
fought for the island, each with the aid of one or other of the four judges or

The Roman Amphitheatre, Cagliari.

princes who, in the middle ages, had divided the island between them. The
Saracens worried its shores year after year. Eventually the King of Aragon
dispossessed Pisa, and occupied most of the island. But it was not until after
another century of strife that, in 1421, Sardinia was finally wrested wholly to the
Spanish Crown.

In 172! i the population had increased to 309,994. This increase continued in
177-5 to 436,374, and so on, until in 1870 the number reached 636,660, and in

U
h
I

D
<
J
i/l

6
z

2
2

D
H

KARDINIA.

149

tfuraghe at Santa Rarliara, Maconicr.

1880, 082,002. Perhaps in the course of three or four hundred years the island
will again become as populous as it was ere the Roman pro-consuls made it their
business to kill and sell Sardes by the tens of thousands annually.

For an island -of this magnitude, Cagliari, with about forty thousand inhabitants,
cannot be called a very imposing capital. But it is a famous and ancient place,
nevertheless. Philologists tell us that its name is derived from the Phoenician
" Keret al," which signifies " set on high." The town is, in fact, built on a tufa
hill some four hundred feet above the sea, which washes its base ; and landwards it
is surrounded by the rich green plain of the Campidano and the "stagni" or
marshes, which are one of the most picturesque, though not wholly welcome, details
in the view from the city's battlements.

It is only necessary to walk a few yards along the high-road west of the
city to see abundant traces of the first, or at least the early, inhabitants of
Cagliari. We are in the suburb of S. Avendracio, with the bright blue water on one
side of the road, and the purple mountains of the south-western corner of Sardinia
beyond. There are low, commonplace white houses by the roadside, of a single storey.
But behind the houses, where, to the right, they seem buttressed against the long
promontory of tufa which springs from the mass upon which the city itself is built,
there are scores of empty tombs. Here for a time lay the Carthaginians who died
in Karales before Rome got hold of Sardinia. There is not the least doubt about
it. The nature of the sepulchral chambers betrays their presence, even if coins and
jewel-work of Carthage had not been unearthed as conclusive testimony.

////; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

These Carthaginian tombs arc excavated in the tufa laterally, so that they face
(lie road and the sea beyond. But they are not all. If one climbs to the white,
glaring plain of which these honeycombed little cliffs are the termination one finds
tombs of another kind. The Carthaginians buried in their own way, and the
Komans in theirs ; and the sunken shafts of the lloman graves now and then
actually pierced the vaulting of the sepulchres of their predecessors.

Though comparatively so small, Cagliari is not a contemptible place from any
aspect. The higher one climbs in it the narrower the streets become. In the
neighbourhood of the cathedral, at the summit, they are not streets but alleys, dark
and cool even on a summer day at noon. It is positively dazzling to break from
this sombre maze of streetlets upon the magnificent promenade of Buon Cammino,
which skirts the side of the rock for half a mile, with seats and shade under the
pepper-trees, and a view that one could look upon for a day and not weary of.
There is also a public garden, with palm-trees, statuary, and fountains, whence the
mountains of Barbargia, to the north, do not appear half as distant as they are.

In past time Cagliari has received special Papal benediction for its religious
zeal and orthodoxy. Whether this was merited or not, it has an astonishing
number of little churches, and the Sarde calendar is full of saints and martyrs
whose blood has moistened this their native soil. These churches cannot be
termed very interesting. Most of them are now in a condition of decay, with rotten
woodwork, defaced stonework, and unbeautiful paintings over their altars. Externally
this is not apparent. Inside it is otherwise. Even the gaudy decking of paper
roses, which indicates one or other of the many local festa-days, cannot veil the
decrepitude of the building.

Cagliari is seen at its liveliest during one of the chief religious festivals of
the year. The peasants from the Campidano then troop into the city in all their
traditional and inherited finery, and there is a melodious tinkling of jewellery in
the Corso Vittorio Emanuele and the other principal thoroughfares. When the
throng and babble is at its worst, the blue or crimson flutter of a banner from a
side street may betoken the coming of one of those religious processions which are
nowhere more elaborate than in Sardinia. Acolytes in scarlet and white, little girls
in long veils, old men with badges and candles, and the priests themselves in a
pomp of vestments, go by to the blare of trumpets. Perhaps there is a shedding of
rose or geranium petals upon the high-road for them to tread upon, or green twigs
plucked by children for the purpose. Be that as it may, it is always impressive to
mark how the swarthy, eagle-eyed men from the country fall instantly . upon their
knees with a mutter of prayer at these manifestations of the dignity and power of
Holy Church. The youth of Cagliari's university, or those who have matriculated in
the freer air of Kome, are by no means so ready to bow the knee. They are more

SARDINIA. 151

apt to stand with a sneer upon their hairless lips, and to shrug their shoulders at
each other in derision of the superstitious degradation of those poor mountebanks of
peasants. But the Sardes of the Campidauo are not to be influenced by sneers and
mocks. They may be ignorant, credi;lous fellows, but at any rate they are true to
what pass for their convictions.

Among its relics of antiquity the amphitheatre of Cagliari is probably the most
interesting, as it is certainly the largest. The Canon Spano, who has done so much for
Sarde archaeology, was the chief agent of its clearance from the immense amount of
rubbish which had been cast into it during ten or eleven centuries. As a rubbish-pit
it no doubt served excellently, from the end of the eighth century onwards. The last
record of its use dates from the year 777, when bull-fights were held here to celebrate
the temporary expulsion of the Saracens from the island. Thenceforward the citizens
had little peace from their enemies, and the original purpose of the amphitheatre
was probably unheeded.

Unlike most theatres, this of Cagliari is an excavation, not a superstructure.
It reminds one of the Odeon of Herod Atticus in the side of the Acropolis at Athens.
The rude outline of it was formed by a watercourse which existed here. The tufa
yielded to the autumnal rains, even as it still does ; and when the hint had taken
root in the minds of the Cagliaritan architects, it was easy to extend the area of
dilapidation. It is not a very large excavation, though it is estimated that it could
seat twenty thousand spectators. What it lacks in breadth, however, it gains in
height, its elevation being about a hundred feet. Perhaps the most interesting
part of it is the series of corridors and chambers which burrow under the lower
tier of seats. These were concerned with the wild beasts brought here to die. The
iron rings to which they were tethered may still be seen welded into the matrix.

The Cagliari amphitheatre is not on show at half a franc or a franc a head.
It is left very much indeed to itself. Under this hot sky it is, moreover, a trifle
arduous to explore the excavation thoroughly. The seats are high, and there are
fissures in the masonry which it would never do to slip into. Here and there a
clump of cactus or prickly pear has perched itself about the theatre. A little
boy may perhaps be seen amusing himself by leaping from seat to seat, and
shouting to snare the echo. Else, you and the amphitheatre and the blue sky
which domes it are likely to be very much alone. Bees and butterflies and lizards
are, of course, of no account. Of these, however, there will probably be no lack.

I have mentioned the Sarde's devotion to the church. One notices this in
the towns ; but it is brought home to one with the greatest force when wandering
among the mountains or over the spacious plains which stretch between the
different mountain groups, and are famous as the breeding-grounds of the Sarde
horses so much in request in Marseilles. Here and there, far from the haunts

ir,-j '/'///; PICTURESQUE UEDITEEEANEAN.

of ini'ii, appears a little white church, with its windows boarded and its door
securely locked. If you ask what it means, you are told that it is dedicated to
this or that saint, whose name you may now hear for the first time, and that
on such and such a day in the year there is a festa in honour of the saint. On
this festa-day and the two or three following days the church is unlocked,
and wonderful is the concourse of people from far and wide to eat and drink
wid pray and dance in honour of this particular saint.

It is the same all over Sardinia. Cagliari in the south has its Saint Efisio,
who provokes every May such scenes of festivity and rejoicing as appear astonishing
to us of the north. In the extreme north-west S. Gavino is in the most
repute. While walking along the coast one day from Porto Torres I came
unexpectedly upon the traces of the recent festa of S. Gavino. There were certain
caves iu the rock, and a chapel that was half a burrow 7 and half the result of
the work of masons. With some difficulty I made my way into a series of the rock
chambers, which were green with damp. The apartments, the court-yard by the
church porch, and the neighbouring space for many yards, were all rendered repulsive
by the prodigious litter of bones, peascods, grape skins, and rotting crusts which the
recent revellers had discarded after the festa-day. Great was the concourse of
bloated beetles and ants and slugs among this decaying refuse, which was so
abundant that one could fancy the festa-day would come round again ere they had

effectually done their scavengering.

After a little experience of Sardinia I was quick to know when a festa was
in the air. There would then be an unusual number of people abroad, in their best
clothes, with or without portly haversacks slung over their mules or horses, and the
greetings they gave a passer-by would have an agreeable, rollicking tone. A good
deal of drinking takes place thus under the fegis of Mother Church. I suppose, too, that
most of the marriages in Sardinia get their initial impulse at these merry-makings.

Of course, under such "conditions, the church in Sardinia is likely to be
prosperous. That, in fact, it is. The free-thinking editors of newspapers in such
towns as Cagliari and Sassari may put their notions in print with as much force
as large type and italics can add to them : it does not make the least difference
to the country Sarde. Even if he can read at all, he will not be influenced much
by editorial vapouring. He is much too conservative an individual to allow himself to
be argued out of the beliefs that are as familiar and fond to him as his environment.

In travelling from the north of Sardinia towards the south one cannot fail
to notice the almost abrupt change in the vegetation which seems to begin in
the neighbourhood of Oristano. North of Macomer, which stands nearly two
thousand feet above the sea, the scenery is European. The rich meadows, teeming
with flowers, and pervaded by flowing brooks in which cows may be seen

SARDINIA.

153

knee-deep, and the fine oak woods populous with asphodels, are not at all suggestive
of a semi-tropical climate. Add to the asphodels thickets of wild cistus massed
with bloom, and you may have some idea of the surface appearance of the Barde
highway in the north.

But as we descend in long curves from Macomer, we, as it were, arrive in
Africa. I have seen few such gigantic hedges of prickly pear as in the
vicinity of Oristano. It is a land
of marvellous fertility. Every yard
seems determined to produce the
very utmost possible. Fig trees,
vines, and barley all draw their
support from the same soil ; and
the fervid blue sky overhead indi-
cates whence the chief source of
all this exuberance proceeds.

It is a curious country, this
round about Oristano and which we
approach so circuitously from Ma-
comer. Before we come to its dead
level we speed for a while along the
edge of a plateau, rising inland,
whence we look west to the sea
across an old alluvial bed of great
extent, broken only by sundry yellow-
brown blotches, which represent the
numerous villages of the district. In
one place the nakedness is relieved
by a long, dark smudge under the
slope of the shore hills. This is Mills, the estate of the Marchese di Boyl, a vast
orange grove, miles in length, and reputed to yield sixty million oranges annually.
Throughout Sardinia a Mills orange has as precious a reputation as in England a
Eibstone pippin. I have bought ten of them for a penny in Oristano, and felt assured
by his face that the vendor was not giving me full market value for my money.

The Sardes have a proverb, "Who goes to Oristauo stays in Oristano." He
dies, in fact, from a fever. Certainly no one can affirm that this low-lying place
is healthy. From the railway one sees nothing of it but a mosaic of lichened
roofs, with the dome and campanile of the Cathedral rising above them, and the
near hedges of prickly pear twelve and fifteen feet high. It is a very hot town,
a curious mixture of fine new buildings and old mud hovels with thatched roofs.

Entrance to the Niiraghe of Santa Barbara.

1.11 '////; PICTURESQUE MEDITEliEANEAN.

But it is half-girdled by '' stagni," and the Tirso, the largest river in the island,
curries its muddy stream past it towards the sea. Nowhere in Sardinia did I see
the classic " mastruca " more in vogue than here. The natives use it partly as
a safeguard ag;i ii^t the chills which usher in a fever. To a stranger it is odd
to see those bron/ed sous of the soil huddled in sheepskin jackets, the wool
outermost, under the scorching heat of a July sun. In truth, however, the Sarde
would much prefer dispensing with the "mastruca" in winter than in summer.
Sunrise and sundown are the times when the timorous take every precaution lest
they he caught unawares. Unless they are obliged to be out, they then keep to
the house. They are, further, scrupulous in the matter of diet. The germ
(though, of course, they know nothing of " bacilli ") may be in a green fig, or a
tisli from such and such a " stagno." Nor will they uncover the head in a cafe or
other place of public resort, nor inhale the air of a bad district if they can possibly
be hurried through it while they hold the breath. " Stay in and drink plenty of
wine "is a current prescription for the man who feels he is on the verge of
malaria ; and it does not seem to be wholly contemptible counsel.

Macomer is a great contrast to Oristano. Instead of being embosomed in
palm-trees and vegetation, it is built on a slope of the Marghine mountains, whose
naked rock summits stretch bleakly towards the interior. As a town it is not
at all striking. The large house near the railway station was the residence,
until his death the other day, of Mr. Pierce, the English engineer who has done so
much for Sardinia in labouring so strenuously on behalf of the island's railway
system. In Macomer, at any rate, his work is amply recognised. The English
stranger is welcomed here : it is enough that he is a countryman of Mr. Pierce,
whom all Macomer seems to have loved and respected.

One would suppose that this elevated place could hardly fail to be healthy;
and yet it is esteemed uncommonly dangerous. In spite of its perils, however,
which I fancy are not so grave as they are reputed to be, the traveller ought to
tarry a while in Macomer, if only for the nuraghe which abound in the neighbourhood.
The artist has chosen the best-preserved of them as a subject for illustration, and
it may, in default of others, serve as an example of the many hundreds of
somewhat similar towers which exist in all parts of the island. Scores of nuraghe
elsewhere are in the last stages of ruin, at least you would imagine so. Perhaps
a single section alone of a wall remains, as in the case of that of Su Paladinu, by
And yet there is no knowing if it will not endure for a millennium longer,
even as, for all we know, it may already have lasted in its present ruined state for
a millennium or more. According to the evidence of one of the parchments of
Arborea (a packet of mediaeval writings found in Oristano, which some think were
forgeries, but in which Sarde antiquaries put much faith), the word " nuraghe "

SA1WINIA. 155

comes from Norax, the Phoenician founder of Nora, or Ptila as it is now called.
They are further described as being temples of the sun, and places of burial for the
early shepherds and priests. This is so very vague and infantine an elucidation of
the mystery of the nuraghe that it may be dismissed at once. Apart from other
objections, if the nuraghe owed their origin to Norax the Phoenician, whence did
Norax get the model for these Sarde towers ? If from Phoenicia or Carthage, why
do we not find the prototypes of the nuraghe in those districts ? If the nuraghe of
Sardinia have lasted for so many thousand years, would not the nuraghe of Africa
or Phoenicia have lasted equally ?

For very many centuries the nuraghe have served as a quarry for the more
modern dwellers in Sardinia. The parchment of Arborea above mentioned says they
were all ransacked during the reign of the Judge Gialetus, about 700 A.D. This, no
doubt, was but one of the series of ransackings they have had to suffer for
generations. Even in our own time they have not been left to themselves. La
Marmora and others have delved in them in quest of bones and bronzes, to give some
clue to their origin ; but of bones to prove they were sepulchres practically none
have been found. The one skeleton discovered in the nuraghe of Iselle, near
Budduso, was, from the nature of the metal trifles which lay with it, much subsequent
to the building of the nuraghe itself.

In fact, villages are built almost wholly of the big rectangular stones lifted from
the nuraghe. Yet the ruins remain, twenty, thirty, forty feet and more in height,
and it is one of the many other mysteries of the kind how the great uncemented
stones which form the lower tiers of the towers were first brought and set where
they still stand. It is well, however, that they are of sufficient bulk to defy
the acquisitive inclinations of the latter-day Sardes.

It were bold in a paper of this kind to attempt to discuss fully the theories
about the genesis of the nuraghe. Some three thousand are said to exist. A
multitude of pamphlets and chapters have been written about them, each convincing
from the standpoint of its author, and it is to be hoped they will survive to puzzle
posterity to the tenth and twentieth generation. They differ as much in size and
architectural detail as in their situations. Nowadays they are all truncated, with a
variety of grasses growing upon what may without disrespect be termed the roof.
This has led some people to class them with the temples of the old Central American
races, and to assume that they were so many altars, upon the flat summits of which
the human sacrifices were consummated before the eyes of the bystanders.

Internally, however, the nuraghe have distinctive marks. Some are of two
storeys, the ovoidal dome to the inner chambers being of the same uncemented
stones which compose the body of the building. From others, again, having
attained the summit, one looks down to the earth floor as at the bottom of a well.

156

THE

MED I TEUIi. I NE. I .V.

Only the shells remain. But many, if not most, of both kinds are provided with a
rude narrow staircase within the walls themselves, which leads from the hase to the
l,,p of the nuraghe. This of Santa Barbara by Macomer is a line example of a
fully equipped nuraghe. And there are others with subterranean apartments, though
these arc so broken into each other by investigations that it is hard to make out

their scheme and connection.
As for the spoil yielded
in modern days by the nu-
raghe, it consists exclusively
of a number of ill-shapeii
bronze images, which may
now be seen in the Cagliari
Museum. They are the Sarde
idols, so-called. Some of
them are nightmarish con-
ceptions, though hardly one
has failed of an interpreta-
tion, often, be it said, satis-
factory to no one except the
interpreter. The majority re-
present human forms. But

in many cases the horns at-
tached to the head, three or
four legs instead of the com-
mon pair, and sundry other
excrescences, leave it dubious
if their prototypes dwelt on
our planet. The horns, again,
are branched like a stag's antlers, or a single pair like those of a cow. Certain of
the heads are bovine ; others resemble an ape, with inchoate tendencies towards the
human outline. Yet are not the idols all single figures. We find serpents, dogs,
and men moulded into one group; three or four rudely-shaped men and women
welded together in another.

These little images (generally and plausibly supposed to be Phoenician symbols
<>f Hie gods worshipped by the Canaanites of Tyre and Sidon) appear to have been the
sole inhabitants of the nuraghe. Were they the Lares and Penates of the establishment,
guardians of the dead (since, with their attendant treasure of gold necklets, beads,
etc., removed), or were the nuraghe temples for their enshrinement ? Who shall
At any rate, now they are displaced. A few may be found as ornaments

lirotla of the I 'ipfr, by Cagliari.

SARDINIA. 157

iu the houses of the country priests and landowners, hut the majority are in the
museums. One may fancy how the early evangelists in Sardinia regarded these
ugly heathenish things when they found them in the possession of the people they
had come to convert. In the sixth century Sardinia was still largely pagan, and
Gregory the Great wrote special letters to the bishops in the island exhorting to
the destruction of these very idols. Multitudes of them were then hacked to
pieces, or fused into church bells, or buried with solemn maledictions beneath the
Christian buildings which were to supplant them. Such as they are, however, the
Sarde idols are as unique in their way as the nuraghe in theirs.

The commonplace idea that the nuraghe were the castles of the prehistoric
Sardes may, after all, it seems, be the real solution of the mystery of these towers.
Of course, they need not have been used except in times of danger. The conical
huts still made by the rustic Sardes were their ordinary dwellings. But as citadels
of refuge nothing could be less assailable than the nuraghe, with their portals so
narrow that they had, in most cases, to be entered upon the hands and knees.
" Thus enclosed in his nuraghe, surrounded by his armed vassals, amply supplied
with provisions, a Sarde chief could defy all attacks, and wait in security until
his assailant should be summoned away by his own domestic needs." These are
the words of the Baron von Maltzan, who has further computed that, in all, the
nuraghe of Santa Barbara alone could shelter about two hundred and fifty persons.

If I were asked what impressed me most during my tour in the island, I
should reply the nuraghe, and a " matanza," or slaughter of tunny fish, at which I
was privileged to be present. The tunny fishery is, in truth, one of the most
important of the few industries of Sardinia. "When Spain ruled in the island it
was worth much more than it is at present. Since then it has been grievously
neglected, though in the last few decades its value has begun again to
be recognised.

Of the various "toiinare," or villages devoted to the tunny fishery, the chief
are Isola Piana in the south, off the islet of S. Pietro, and Porto Torres in the
north. The former is, or at any rate was recently, let at a rental of 11,700
per annum, and an average year's receipts amounted to some twelve thousand
fish, representing a thousand tons' weight, at 40 the ton. As the season lasts
only for a few weeks in the spring of the year, it will be apparent that the
lessees of the fishery of Isola Piana do well by their bargain.

I was fortunate enough to be in Carloforte, the capital of S. Pietro, when
the fishery was in progress ; and also, a week later, in Porto Torres, with the
like opportunity at hand. As luck would have it, however, I missed a "matanza"
at Isola Piana, though I watched the boatloads of merrymakers who set out from
the little harbour of the town for the distant scene of capture and slaughter,

168 THE PICTniKSyru MEDITERRANEAN.

and suhs,.qui-ntly saw the smoke of the " tonnani " chiiiiueys puffing in eloquent
d.-mon-tration that there liad been a fine catch, and that the employes of the
Genoese contractors who rent the " tonnara " were boiling the fish as fast as possible
for the European market.

From first to last the taking and potting of the tunny is an affair of much
tact and patience. The net or snare into which the wandering herds of lish are
enticed has to he of immense size, dexterous construction, and irreproachable
stivngth. It is of two parts: the one an outer framework of palmetto or esparto
grass, made fast by cables and a tether of huge stones; and the other an inner drag
net, by means of which the fish are eventually brought near to the surface. This
is the slaughterers' moment; and a wild enough scene it is, when the great fish are
thus at the mercy of the men who have been nominated to stand on two of the
sides of the great boats which pen the fish, waiting the word of command from
the " rais " to drive their iron hooks into the glittering bodies of their victims.

It is an affair of patience, because sometimes the fish hold aloof unaccountably.
The look-out man, whose business it is to be constantly moving as quietly as possible
over the area of the " madraga," as the net is called, to keep himself informed of the
number of tunny already in the snare, has no very easy time of it. A storm, of
course, sends him back to the " tonnara," since the " matanza " itself is impossible
in a very disturbed sea. Ordinarily, however, he must be vigilant and persistent in
peering through the clear water. And only when enough fish are in the snare to
repay the labour of the " matauza " is it his duty to warn the manager, who
gives the word for the last act in the lives of the hundreds of trapped tunny.

Even then hours must elapse before the fish can be got to the surface in fit
trim for the slaughter. They must all be in the final or death chamber of the
snare, and until they are there different tactics are used to coax them thither. When
the "rais" (from the Arabic "ras," the head), or leader, is satisfied that the right
moment has come, the barges, which are a necessary feature of the fishery, form a
square over the "madraga," and by slow degrees the net is hauled in until the
tunny are forced pell-mell near the surface of the water. It is a tedious piece of
work, and though a hundred men may be engaged at it, sometimes a couple of
hours go by ere the final dispositions for the slaughter take place. Five or six
hundred fish, weighing a couple of hundredweight each, make a very respectable
burden to upheave.

At last the supreme moment arrives. There are the tunny, lashing each other
with their powerful tails as they try to move freely in their restricted quarters. The
water within the square is all in a boil. The spray is shot right and left so
vigorously that the spectators are soon drenched t and it rises high in the air like
the spouting from a hundred fountains.

SARDINIA. 159

The slaughterers have dressed themselves in cottons from head to foot. Well
they may, for in a few moments they are red all over with the blood of the dead
and dying fish. These they stab with their " crocchi," or hooked poles, and draw
from the water into the roomy holds of the barges, which cut off all chance of
escape for the fish. It is not child's play, though of actual danger there is none,
save that of a blow from the tail of the fish as it is being urged into the boat. And
so the work proceeds until the gory sea within the enclosure is divested of its
tenants. Then the men leap into the water upon the other side, and swim about
until they and their cottons are a more presentable colour ; after which the
burdensome catch is towed landwards by the " tonnara " steam-tug, and the tunny
are transported very promptly into the " marfaragiu," or factory, where the dissection,
cooking, and tinning processes are carried through without waste of a minute.

Decidedly, as an experience, a " matanza " of tunny is something to see. For
myself, however, I do not think I could make it an occasion of picnics and festivity
as do the country Sardes who are able to hire boats to be " in at the death." It
is too sanguinary a spectacle, mere butchery, and the fumes of blood poison the air,
so that none but hardened stomachs can endure it without an attack of nausea.

If there were space at command, I should like to have written something about
the islands off the Sarde coast. About such eccentric rocks as "Woman's Thigh
Headland," and " Stomach-ache Island," on the west side, little need be said,
because they are so small. Of the others, Asmara, to the north-west, about thirty-five
miles in circumference, is the largest. It is a bleak, treeless cape of red granite, very
much out of the world. Not so long ago pen and ink did not exist in it, and a sick
man had to be row.ed fifteen miles thence in a boat to receive extreme unction from
a priest. It is not so bad now. Earlier in the century there was a Duke of
Asmara ; but the title was so doubtful an honour, being much the same as
Duke of Donkeys, and the revenue so small (about '2 per annum), that the Duke
petitioned successfully to be Duke of Vallombrosa instead.

In the south-west are two other islands S. Pietro, already mentioned for its
" tonnara," and 8. Antioco. The former is peopled by inhabitants of Genoese
extraction, who differ from the Sardes alike in features, energy, habits, and dress.
Elsewhere in Sardinia life is conducted with Oriental calmness, but in Carloforte of
S. Pietro there is an invigorating amount of stir. The city, too, is attractive,
with its girdle of crenulated walls, built in the last century as a protection against
the Algerines a?id other pirates, with its tall pink and ochre houses, and its bright
outlook across the blue strait at the mountains of Iglesias.

S. Antioco is more lethargic than S. Pietro. It is not, like Carloforte, a port
enlivened by the transhipment of minerals to the continent, and in the tunny season
by all the cheery bustle incidental to the catching, pickling, and exportation of the

Kin

Till'. PICTVRESQl E MEDITERRANEAN.

tunny; hut. it has charms of its own. It is an old place, and its stones whisper
of Carthage, I'-gypt, illl( l Home, of the Saracens \vlio later, for two or three
centuries, camped amid its ruined temples, and of its resuscitation as a modern,
unpretending townlet. Its people are a. simple, kindly community, much intermarried,
and ready to take oath that S. Antioco is the healthiest spot in the world. I was
here put through some odd cross-examination about my native land. The villagers
were astounded to learn that England was governed by a woman ; but, hearing
that the Queen had a son, they forthwith assumed that he was the real ruler, his
mother acting but as a nominal sort of regent.

The view from S. Antioco across its narrow sound of water is botli like and
unlike that from Carloforte. It looks upon the same mountains, but between them
and the coast is a broad and long flat, pestilential in the dog-days, and to the eye
only an immense cornfield of very thin corn, with here and there a white house or
two distributed about it. Anciently this was the site of the important city of Suit-is,
one of the most populous during the Roman occupation of Sardinia. It is supposed
that the four thousand Egyptians and Jews of whom Tacitus writes were transported
hither, to live or die as they might. But the city is now quite expunged from the
face of the earth, saving the fragments in S. Antioco. Two or three granite
columns, half sunk in the dark mud of the marshes by the old Roman road, do but
just keep it in memory.

CHAKLES EDWAKDES.

Bay of Algiers, front Mustaplu.

ALGIERS.

' ALGIERS," says the Arab poet, with genuine Oriental love of precious stones in
literature, " is a pearl set in emeralds." And even in these degenerate days of
Frank supremacy in Islam, the old Moorish town still gleams white in the sun
against a deep background of green hillside, a true pearl among emeralds. For it is
a great mistake to imagine North Africa, as untravelled folk suppose, a dry and desert
country of arid rocky mountains. The whole strip of laughing coast which has the
Atlas for its backbone may rank, on the contrary, as about the dampest, greenest,
and most luxuriant region of the Mediterranean system. The home of the Barbary
corsairs is a land of high mountains, deep glens, great gorges ; a land of vast pine
forests and thick, verdant undergrowth. A thousand rills tumble headlong down its
rich ravines ; a thousand rivers flow fast through its fertile valleys. For wild flowers
Algeria is probably unequalled in the whole world ; its general aspect in many ways
recalls on a smaller scale the less snow- clad parts of eastern Switzerland.

When you approach the old pirate-nest from the sea, the first glimpse of the
African coast that greets your expectant eye is a long, serrated chain of great
sun-smitten mountains away inland and southward. As the steamer nears the land,
you begin, after a while, to distinguish the snowy ridge of the glorious Djurjura,
which is the Bernese Oberland of Algeria, a huge block of rearing peaks, their
summits thick-covered by the virgin snow that feeds in spring a score of leaping
torrents. By-and-by, with still nearer approach, a wide bay discloses itself, and a

PlCfUtlESQVE

little range of green liills in the foreground detaches itself by degrees from the
darker mass of the Atlas looming large in the distance behind. This little range
is the Sahrl, an outlier just separated from the main chain in the rear by the once
marshy plain of the Metidja, now converted by drainage and scientific agriculture
into the most fertile lowland region of all North Africa.

Presently, on the seaward slopes of the Sahel, a white town bursts upon the
eye, a white town so very white, so close, so thick-set, that at first sight you
would think it carved entire, in tier after tier, from a solid block of marble. No
street or lane or house or public building of any sort stands visible from the rest at
a little distance; just a group of white steps, you would say, cut out by giant
hands from the solid hillside. The city of the Deys looks almost like a chalk-pit
on the slope of an English down ; only a chalk-pit in relief, built out, not
hewn inwards.

As you enter the harbour the strange picture resolves itself bit by bit with
charming effect into its component elements. White houses rise up steep, one
above the other, in endless tiers and rows, upon a very abrupt acclivity. Most of
them are Moorish in style, square, flat-roofed boxes ; all are whitewashed without,
and smiling like pretty girls that show their pearly teeth in the full southern
sunshine. From without they have the aspect of a single solid block of stone ; you
would fancy it was impossible to insert a pin's head between them. From within,
to him that enters, sundry narrow and tortuous alleys discoyer themselves here and
there on close inspection ; but they are too involved to produce much effect as of
streets or rows on the general coup tVceil from the water.

Land at the quay, and you find at once Algiers consists of two distinct
towns : one ancient, one modern ; one Oriental, one Western. Now and again
these intersect, but for the most part they keep themselves severely separate.

The lower town has been completely transformed within half a century by its
French masters. What it has gained in civilisation it has lost in picturesqueness.
A spacious port has been constructed, with massive mole and huge arcaded
breakwater, at one end of which the old octagonal lighthouse of the Barbary
corsairs gives a solitary token of the antiquity of the original harbour. Inside, vast
archways support a magnificent line of very modern quays, bordered by warehouses
on a scale that would do honour to Marseilles or to Liverpool. Broad streets run
through the length and breadth of this transformed Algiers, streets of stately
shops where ladies can buy all the fripperies and fineries of Parisian dressmakers.
Yet even here the traveller finds himself already in many ways en plein Orient.
The general look of the new town itself is far more Eastern than that of
modernised Alexandria since the days of the bombardment. Arabs, Moors, and
Kabyles crowd the streets and market-places; muffled women in loose white robes,

ALGIERS. 163

covered up to the eyes, flit noiselessly with slippered feet over the new-flagged
pavement; turbaued Jews, who might have stepped straight out of the "Arabian
Nights," chaffer for centimes at the shop-doors with hooded mountain Berbers.
All is strange and incongruous; all is Paris and Bagdad shaking hands as if on the
Devonshire hillsides.

Nor are even Oriental buildings of great architectural pretensions wanting to
this newer French city. The conquerors, in reconstructing Algiers on the Parisian
model, have at least forborne to Haussmannise in every instance the old mosques
and palaces. The principal square, a broad place lined with palm-trees, is enlivened
and made picturesque by the round white dome and striking minarets of the Mosquee
de la Pecherie. Hard by stands the Cathedral, a religious building of Mussulman
origin, half Christianised externally by a tower at each end, but enclosing within
doors its old Mohammedan minibar and many curious remains of qiiaint Moorish
decoration. The Archbishopric at its side is a Moorish palace of severe beauty and
grandeiir ; the museum of Graeco-Boman antiques is oddly installed in the exquisite
home raised for himself by Mustapha Pasha. The Great Mosque, in the Hue
Bab-el-Oued, remains to us unspoiled as the finest architectural monument of the
early Mohammedan world. That glorious pile was built by the very first Arab
conquerors of North Africa, the companions of the Prophet, and its exquisite
horse-shoe arches of pure white marble are unsurpassed in the Moslem world for
their quaintness, their oddity, and their originality.

The interior of this mosque is, to my mind, far more impressive than anything to
be seen even in Cairo itself, so vast it is, so imposing, so grand, so gloomy. The
entire body of the building is occupied throughout by successive arcades, supported
in long rows by plain, square pillars. Decoration there is none ; the mosque depends
for effect entirely on its architectural features and its noble proportions. But the
long perspective of these endless aisles, opening out to right and left perpetually as
you proceed, strikes the imagination of the beholder with a solemn sense of vastness
and mystery. As you pick your way, shoeless, among the loose mats on the
floor, through those empty long corridors, between those buttress-like pillars, the
soul shrinks within you, awe-struck. The very absence of images or shrines, the
simplicity and severity, gives one the true Semitic religious thrill. No gauds or
gewgaws here. You feel at once you are in the unseen presence of the Infinite
and the Incomprehensible.

The very first time I went into the Great Mosque happened, by good luck, to
Le the day of a Mohammedan religious festival. Hows and rows of Arabs in white
robes filled up the interspaces of the columns, and rose and fell with one accord
at certain points of the service. From the dim depths by the niche that looks
towards Mecca a voice of some unseen ministrant droned slowly forth loud Arabic

llil

77/7-; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

prayers or long verses from the Koran. At some
invisible signal, now and again, the vast throng of
worshippers, all ranged >in straight lines at even
distances between the endless pillars, prostrated
themselves automatically on their faces before

Allah, and wailed aloud as if in conscious confession of their own utter airworthiness.
The effect was extraordinary, electrical, contagious. No religious service I have ever
seen elsewhere seemed to me to possess such a profundity of earnest humiliation, as
of man before the actual presence of his Maker. It appeared to one like a chapter
of Nehemiah come true again in our epoch. We few intrusive Westerns, standing
awe-struck by the door, slunk away, all abashed, from this scene of deep abasement.
\\V had no right to thrust ourselves upon the devotions of these intense Orientals.
We felt ourselves out of place. We had put off our shoes, for the place we stood
upon was holy ground. But we slunk back to the porch, and put them on again in
silence. Outside, we emerged upon the nineteenth century and the world. Yet even
so, we had walked some way down the Place de la Regence, among the chattering
negro pedlars, before one of us dared to exchange a single word with the other.

If the new town of Algiers is interesting, however, the old town is unique,
indescribable, incomprehensible. No map could reproduce it; no clue could unravel it.
It climbs and clambers by tortuous lanes and steep staircases up the sheer side of a

ALGIERS.

165

high hill to the old fortress of the Deys that
sunshine ever penetrates down those narrow
people can just pass abreast, brushing their
with their feet in the
poached filth of the gutter.
The dirt that chokes the
sides is to the dirt of Italy
as the dirt of Italy is to
the dirt of Whitechapel. And
yet so quaint, so picturesque,
so interesting is it all, that
even delicate English ladies,
with the fear of typhoid
fever for ever before their
eyes, cannot refuse themselves
the tremulous joy of visiting
it and exploring it over and
over again ; nay, more, of
standing to bargain for old
brass-work or Algerian em-
broidery with keen Arab
shopkeepers in its sunless
labyrinths. Except the
Mooskee at Cairo, indeed, I
know no place yet left where
you can see Oriental life in
perfection as well as the old
town of Algiers. For are
there not tramways nowa-
days even in the streets of
Damascus ? Has not a rail-
way station penetrated the
charmed heart of Stamboul ?
The Frank has done his
worst for the lower town of
his own building, but the upper town still
and as insanitary as ever. No Pasteur could
In those malodorous little alleys, where
is vile, nobody really walks ; veiled figures

crowns the summit. Not one gleam of
slits between the houses, where two
elbows against the walls, and treading

Harbour of Algiers.

remains as picturesque, as mysterious,
clean out those Augean stables,
every prospect pleases and every scent
glide softly as if to inaudible music ;

l,-,i; rill-: PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Indies, mulHed up to their eyes, use those solitary features with great effect upon
flu- casual passer-hy ; old .Moors, in stately robes, emerge with stealthy tread from
half-unseeH doorways boys dad in a single shirt sit and play pitch-and-toss for
pence on dark steps. I'lverything reeks impartially of dirt and of mystery. All
is -loom and shade. You could believe anything on earth of that darkling old
to\\n. There all Oriental fancies might easily come true, all fables might revive,
all dead history might repeat itself.

These two incongruous worlds, the ancient and the modern town, form the
two great divisions of Algiers as the latter-day tourist from our cold North
knows it. The one is antique, lazy, sleepy, unprogressive ; the other is bustling,
new-world, busy, noisy, commercial. But there is yet a third Algiers that lies well
without the wall, the Algiers of the stranger and of the winter resident. Hither
Mr. Cook conducts his eager neophytes; hither the Swiss innkeeper summons his
cosmopolitan guests. It reaches its culminating point about three miles from the
town, on the heights of Mustapha Superieur, where charming villas spread thick over
the sunlit hills, and where the Western visitor can enjoy the North African air
without any unpleasant addition of fine old crusted Moorish perfumes.

The road to Mustapha Superieur lies through the Bab-Azzoun gate, and passes
first along a wide street thronged with Arabs and Kabyles from the country and
the mountains. This is the great market road of Algiers, the main artery of
supplies, a broad thoroughfare lined with fondoufa or caravanserais, where the
\\cary camel from the desert deposits his bales of dates, and where black faces of
Saharan negroes smile out upon the curious stranger from dense draping folds of
some dirty burnouse. The cafes are filled with every variety of Moslem, Jew, Turk,
and infidel. Nowhere else will you see to better advantage the wonderful variety of
races and costumes that distinguishes Algiers above most other cosmopolitan
Mediterranean cities. The dark M'zabite from the oases, arrayed like Joseph in
a coat of many colours, stands chatting at his own door with the pale-faced
melancholy Berber of the Aures mountains. The fat and dusky Moor, over-fed on
koiis-kous, jostles cheek by jowl with the fair Jewess in her Paisley shawl and
quaint native head-gear. Mahounais Spaniards from the Balearic Isles, girt round
their waists with red scarves, talk gaily to French missionary priests in violet bands
and black cassocks. Old Arabs on white donkeys amble with grave dignity down the
centre of the broad street, where chasseurs in uniform and spahis in crimson cloaks
keep them company on fiery steeds from the Government stud at Blidah. All is
noise and bustle, hurry, scurry, and worry, the ant-hill life of an Eastern bazaar
grotesquely superimposed on the movement and stir of a great European city.

You pass through the gates of the old Moorish town and find yourself at
once in a modern but still busy suburb. Then on a sudden the road begins to

ALGIERS. ie?

mount the steep Mustapha slope by sharp zigzags and bold gradients. In native
Algerian days, before Allah in his wisdom mysteriously permitted the abhorred
infidel to bear sway in the Emerald City over the Faithful of Islam, a single narrow
mule-path, ascended from the town wall to the breezy heights of Mustapha. It still
exists, though deserted, that old breakneck Mussulman road, a deep cutting through
soft stone, not unlike a Devonshire lane, all moss-grown and leafy, a favourite haunt
of the naturalist and the trap-door spider. But the French engineers, most famous
of road-makers, knew a more excellent way. Shortly after the conquest they
carved a zigzag carriage-drive of splendid dimensions up that steep hill-front, and
paved it well with macadam of most orthodox solidity. At the top, in proof of
their triumph over nature and the Moslem, they raised a tiny commemorative
monument, the Colonne Voirol, after their commander's name, now the Clapham
Junction of all short excursions among the green dells of the Sahel.

The Mustapha road, on its journey uphill, passes many exquisite villas of
the old Moorish corsairs. The most conspicuous is that which now forms the
Governor - General's Summer Palace, a gleaming white marble pile of rather
meretricious and over-ornate exterior, but all glorious within, to those who know
the secret of decorative art, with its magnificent heirloom of antique tiled dados.
Many of the other ancient villas, however, and notably the one occupied by
Lady Mary Smith-Barry, are much more really beautiful, even if less externally
pretentious, than the Summer Palace. One in particular, near the last great bend
of the road, draped from the ground to the fiat roof with a perfect cataract of
bloom by a crimson bougainvillea, may rank among the most picturesque and
charming homes in the French dominions.

It is at Mustapha, or along the El Biar road, that the English colony of
residents or winter visitors almost entirely congregates. Nothing can be more
charming than this delicious quarter, a wilderness of villas, with its gleaming white
Moorish houses half lost in rich gardens of orange, palm, and cypress trees. How
infinitely lovelier these Eastern homes than the fantastic extravagances of the
Californie at Cannes, or the sham antiques on the Mont Boron ! The native
North African style of architecture answers exactly to the country in whose midst
it was developed. In our cold northern climes those open airy arcades would
look chilly and out of place, just as our castles and cottages would look dingy
and incongruous among the sunny nooks of the Atlas. But here, on the basking
red African soil, the milk-white Moorish palace with its sweeping Saracenic arches,
its tiny round domes, its flat, terraced roofs, and its deep perspective of shady
windows, seems to fit in with land and climate as if each were made for the
other. Life becomes absolutely fairy-like in these charming old homes. Each seems
for the moment while you are in it j-ust a dream in pure marble.

L68

'/'//A'

MEDITERRANEAN.

Moorish J'illa, with Bay of Algiers.

I am aware that to describe a true Moorish villa
is like describing the flavour of a strawberry ; the one must be tasted, the other
seen. But still, as the difficulty of a task gives zest to the attempt at surmounting
it, I will try my hand at a dangerous word -picture. Most of the Mustapha
houses have an outer entrance-court, to which you obtain admission from the road
by a plain, and often rather heavy, archway. But, once you have reached the first
atrium, or uncovered central court, you have no reason to complain of heaviness or
want of decoration. The court-yard is generally paved with parti-coloured marble,
and contains in its centre a Pompeian-looking fountain, whose cool water bubbles over
into a shallow tank beneath it. Here reeds and tall arums lift their stately green
foliage, and bright pond-blossoms rear on high their crimson heads of bloom. Bound
the quadrangle runs a covered arcade (one might almost say a cloister) of horse-shoe
arches, supported by marble columns, sometimes Graeco-Koman antiques, sometimes
a little later in date, but admirably imitated from the originals. This outer court
is often the most charming feature of the whole house. Here, on sultry days,
the ladies of the family sit with their books or their fancy-work ; here the lord
of the estate smokes his afternoon cigar ; here the children play in the shade
during the hottest African noon-day. It is the place for the siesta, for the
afternoon tea, for the lounge in the cool of the evening, for the joyous sense of
the delight of mere living.

From the court-yard a second corridor leads into the house itself, whose centre
is always occupied by a large square court, like the first in ground-plan, but

ALGIERS.

109

two-storeyed and glass-covered. This is the hall, or first reception room, often the
principal apartment of the whole house, from which the other rooms open out in
every direction. Usually the ground-floor of the hall has an open arcade, supporting
a sort of halcony or
gallery above, which
runs right round the
first floor on top of it.
This balcony is itself
arcaded ; but instead of
the arches being left
open the whole way up,
they are filled in for
the first few feet from
the floor with a charm-
ing balustrade of carved
Cairene woodwork.
Imagine t such a court,
ringed round with string-
courses of old Oriental
tiles, and decorated with
a profusion of fine pot-
tery and native brass-
work, and you may form
to yourself some faint
mental picture of the
common remodelled Al-
gerian villa. It makes
one envious again to
remember how many
happy days one has
spent in some such charming retreats, homes where all the culture and artistic
taste of the West have been added to all the exquisite decorative instinct and
insight of the Oriental architect.

Nor are fair outlooks wanting. From many points of view on the Mustapha Hill
the prospect is among the most charming in the western Mediterranean. Sir
Lambert Playfair, indeed, the learned and genial British Consul-General whose
admirable works on Algeria have been the delight of every tourist who visits
that beautiful country, is fond of saying that the two finest views on the Inland
Sea are, first, that from the Greek Theatre at Taormina, and, second, that from

Woman Praying to a Sacred Tree.

ivo mi-: rn'Ti'in-:x<jUE MEDITEIHI. \XEAN.

his own dining-room windows on the hill-top at F,l Biar. This is very strong
praise, and it conies from the author of a handbook to the Mediterranean who
has seen that sea in all aspects, from Gibraltar to Syria; yet I fancy it is too
high, especially when one considers that among the excluded scenes must be put
Naples, Sorrento, Amain, Palermo, and the long stretch of Venice as seen from
the Lido. I would myself even rank the outlook on Monaco from the slopes of
Cap Martin, and the glorious panorama of Nice and the Maritime Alps from the
Lighthouse Hill at Antibes, above any picture to be seen from the northern
spurs of the Sahel. Let us be just to Piraeus before we are generous to El
Biar. But all this is, after all, a mere matter of taste, and no lover of
the picturesque would at any rate deny that the Bay of Algiers, as viewed
from the Mustapha Hill, ranks deservedly high among the most beautiful sights
of the Mediterranean. And when the sunset lights up in rosy tints the white
mole and the marble town, the resulting scene is sometimes one of almost
fairy-like splendour.

Indeed, the country round Mustapha is a district of singular charm and manifold
beauty. The walks and drives are delicious. Great masses of pale white clematis
hang in sheets from the trees, cactus and aloe run riot among the glens, sweet scents
of oleander float around the deep ravines, delicious perfumes of violets are wafted on
every breeze from unseen and unsuspected gardens. Nowhere do I know a landscape
so dotted with houses, and nowhere are the houses themselves so individually
interesting. The outlook over the bay, the green dells of the foreground, the town
on its steep acclivity, the points and headlands, and away above all, in the opposite
direction, the snow-clad peaks of the Djurjura, make up a picture that, after all, has
few equals or superiors on our latter-day planet.

One of the sights of Mustapha is the Arab cemetery, where once a week the
women go to pray and wail, with true Eastern hyperbole, over the graves of their dead
relations. By the custom of Islam they are excluded from the mosques and from
all overt participation in the public exercises of religion; but these open-air temples
not made with hands even the Prophet himself has never dared to close to them.
Ancestor-worship and the veneration of the kindred dead have always borne a large
part in the domestic creed of the less civilised Semites, and, like many other traces of
heathenism, this antique cult still peeps sturdily through the thin veil of Mohammedan
monotheism. Every hillock in the Atlas outliers is crowned by the tiny domed
tomb, or konlba, of some local saint; every sacred grove overshadows the relics of
some reverend Marabout. Nay, the very oldest forms of Semitic idolatry, the cult
of standing stones, of holy trees, and of special high places on the mountain-tops,
survive to this day even in the midst of Islam. It is the women in particular who
keep alive these last relics of pre-Moslem^ faith ; it is the women that one may see

ALGIERS. 171

weeping over the narrow graves of their loved ones, praying for the great desire of
the Semitic heart, a man-child from Allah, before the sacred tree of their pagan
ancestors, or hanging rags and dolls as offerings about the holy grove which encloses
the divine spring of pure and hallowed water.

Algiers is thus in many ways one of the most picturesque winter resorts open
within easy reach to the English tourist. But it has one great drawback : the
climate is moist and the rainfall excessive. Those who go there must not expect
the dry desert breeze that renders Luxor and Assiout so wholesome and so
unpleasant. Beautiful vegetation means rain and heat. You will get both in
Algiers, and a fine Mediterranean tossing on your journey each way to impress
it on your memory. The goal is delicious, but the voyage is the worst on any sea

I am acquainted with.

GUANT ALLEN.

The Coast near Viarcggio, where Shelley's body was found.

THE TUSCAN COAST.

Bay of Spezzia is defined sharply enough on its western side by the long,
hilly peninsula which parts it from the Mediterranean, hut as this makes only
a small angle with the general trend of the coast-line its termination is less strongly
marked on the opposite side. Of its beauties we have spoken in an earlier article,
but there is a little town at the southern extremity which, in connection with the
coast below, has a melancholy interest to every lover of English literature. Here,
at Lerici, Shelley spent what proved to be the last months' of his life. The town
itself, once strongly fortified by its Pisan owners against their foes of Genoa on the
one side and Lucca on the other, is a picturesque spot. The old castle crowns a
headland, guarding the little harbour and overlooking the small but busy town. At
a short distance to the south-east is the Casa Magni, once a Jesuit seminary, which
was occupied by Shelley. Looking across the beautiful gulf to the hills on its
'opposite shore and the island of Porto Venere, but a few miles from the grand
group of the Carrara mountains, in the middle of the luxuriant scenery of the
Eastern Riviera, the house, though in itself not very attractive, was a fit home
for a lover of nature. But Shelley's residence within its walls was too soon cut
short. There are strange tales (like those told with bated breath by old nurses by
the fireside) that as the closing hour approached the spirits of the unseen world
took bodily form and became visible to the poet's eye; tales of a dark-robed figure
standing by his bedside beckoning him to follow ; of a laughing child rising from
the sea as he walked by moonlight on the terrace, clapping its hands in glee ;
and of other warnings that the veil which parted him from the spirit world was
vanishing away. Shelley delighted in the sea. On the 1st of July he left Lerici for
Leghorn in a small sailing vessel. On the 8th lie set out to return, accompanied

THE TUSCAN COAST.

173

only by his friend, Mr. Williams, and an English lad. The afternoon was hot
and sultry, and as the sun became low a fearful squall burst upon the neighbouring
sea. What happened no one exactly knows, but the}' never came back to the shore.
Day followed day, and the great sea kept its secret ; but at last, on the 22nd,
the corpse of Shelley was washed up near Viareggio and that of Williams near
Bocca Lerici, three miles away. It was not till three weeks afterwards that the
body of the sailor lad came ashore. Probably the felucca had either capsized, or
had been swamped at the first break of the storm ; but when it was found, some
three months afterwards, men said that it looked as if it had been run down, and
even more ugly rumours got abroad that this was no accident, but the work of
some Italians, done in the
hope of plunder, as it was
expected that the party
had in charge a consider-
able sum of money. The
bodies were at first buried
in the sand with quick-
lime ; but at that time the
Tuscan law required " any
object then cast ashore to
be burned, as a precaution
against plague," so, by the
help of friends, the body of
Shelley was committed to
the flames " with fuel and

frankincense, wine, salt, and oil, the accompaniments of a Greek cremation," in the
presence of Byron, Leigh Hunt, and Trelawny. The corpse of Williams had been
consumed in like fashion on the previous day. " It was a glorious day and a splendid
prospect ; the cruel and calm sea before, the Apennines behind. A curlew wheeled
close to the pyre, screaming, and would not be driven away ; the flames arose golden
and towering." The inurned ashes were entombed, as everyone knows, in the
Protestant burial ground at Borne by the side of Keats' grave, near the pyramid of
Cestius. Much as there was to regret in Shelley's life, there was more in his death,
for such genius as his is rare, and if the work of springtide was so glorious, what
might have been the summer fruitage ?

As the Gulf of Spezzia is left behind, the Magra broadens out into an estuary as
it enters the sea, the river which formed in olden days the boundary between Liguria
and Etruria. Five miles from the coast, and less than half the distance from
the river, is Sarzana, the chief city of the province, once fortified, and still

Casa RTagni,

171 THK riCTUUESQUE MEDITEliliANEAN.

containing a cathedral of some interest. It once gave birth to a Pope, Nicholas V.,
the founder of the Vatican Library, and in the neighbourhood the family of
the Buonapartes had their origin, a branch of it having emigrated to Corsica.
Sar/ana bore formerly the name of Luna Nova, as it had replaced another Luna
which stood nearer to the mouth of the river. This was in ruins even in the days
of Lucan, and now the traveller from Sarauza to Pisa sees only " a strip of
low, grassy laud intervening between him and the sea. Here stood the ancient
city. There is little enough to see. Beyond a few crumbling tombs and a
fragment or two of Komau ruins, nothing remains of Luna. The fairy scene
described by Rutilius, so appropriate to the spot which bore the name of the
virgin-queen of heaven, the ' fair white walls ' shaming with their brightness the
untrodden snow, the smooth, many-tinted rocks overrun with laughing lilies, if
not the pure creation of the poet, have now vanished from the sight. Vestiges of
an amphitheatre, of a semicircular building which may be a theatre, of a circus,
a piscina, and fragments of columns, pedestals for statues, blocks of pavement and
inscriptions, are all that Luna has now to show."

But all the while the grand group of the Carrara hills is in view, towering
above a lowland region which rolls down towards the coast. A branch line now
leads from Avenza, a small seaport town from which the marble is shipped, to
the town of Carrara, through scenery of singular beauty. The shelving banks and
winding slopes of the foreground hills are clothed with olives and oaks and other
trees ; here and there groups of houses, white and grey and pink, cluster around
a campanile tower on some coign of vantage, while at the back rises the great
mountain wall of the Apuan Alps, with its gleaming crags, scarred, it must be
admitted, rather rudely and crudely by its marble quarries, though the long slopes
of screes beneath these gashes in the more distant views almost resemble the
Alpine snows. The situation of the town is delightful, for it stands at the
entrance of a rapidly narrowing valley, in a sufficiently elevated position to
command a view of this exquisitely rich lowland as it shelves and rolls down to
the gleaming sea. Nor is the place itself devoid of interest. One of its churches
at least, S. Andrea, is a really handsome specimen of the architecture of this
part of Italy in the thirteenth century, but the quarries dominate, and their
products are everywhere. Here are the studios of sculptors and the ateliers of
workmen. The fair white marble here, like silver in the days of Solomon, is of
little account; it paves the streets, builds the houses, serves even for the basest
uses, and is to be seen strewn or piled up everywhere to await dispersal by the
trains to more distant regions. Beyond the streets of Carrara, in the direction of
the mountains, carriage roads no longer exist. Lanes wind up the hills here
and there in rather bewildering intricacy, among vines and olive groves, to

THE TUSCAN COAST. 175

hamlets and quarries ; one, indeed, of rather larger size and more fixity of
direction, keeps for a time near the river, if indeed the stream which flows by
Carrara be worthy of that name, except when the storms are breaking or the
snows are melting upon the mountains. But all these lanes alike terminate
in a quarry, are riven with deep ruts, ploughed up like a field by the wheels of
the heavy waggons that bring down the great blocks of marble. One meets
these grinding and groaning on their way, drawn by yokes of dove-coloured oxen
(longer than that with which Elisha was ploughing when the older prophet cast his
mantle upon his shoulders), big, meek-looking beasts, mild-eyed and melancholy as the
lotus-eaters. To meet them is not always an unmixed pleasure, for the lanes are
narrow, and there is often no room to spare ; how the traffic is regulated in
some parts is a problem which I have not yet solved.

Carrara would come near to being an earthly paradise were it not for the
mosquitos, which are said to be such that they would have made even the Garden
of Eden untenable, especially to its first inhabitants. Of them, however, I cannot
speak, for I have never slept in the town, or even visited it at the season when
this curse of the earth is at its worst ; but I have no hesitation in asserting that the
mountains of Carrara are not less beautiful in outline than those of any part of the
main chain of the Alps of like elevation, while they are unequalled in colour and
variety of verdure.

To Avenza succeeds Massa, a considerable town, beautifully situated among
olive-clad heights, which are spotted with villas and densely covered with foliage.
Like Carrara, it is close to the mountains, and dispiites with Carrara for
the reputation of its quarries. This town was once the capital of a duchy,
Massa-Carrara, and the title was borne by a sister of Napoleon I. Her large
palace still remains ; her memory should endure, though not precisely in honour,
for, according to Mr. Hare, she pulled down the old cathedral to improve the view
from her windows. But if Massa is beautiful, so is Pietra Santa, a much
smaller town enclosed by old walls and singularly picturesque in outline. It has
a fine old church, with a picturesque campanile, which, though slightly more modern
than the church itself, has seen more than four centuries. The piazza, with the
Town Hall, this church and another one, is a very characteristic feature. In the
baptistry of one of the churches are some bronzes by Donatello. About half-a-dozen
miles away, reached by a road which passes through beautiful scenery, are the marble
quarries of Seravezza, which were first opened by Michael Angelo, and are still in
full work. There is only one drawback to travelling by railway in this region ; the
train goes too fast. Let it be as slow as it will, and it can be very slow, we can
never succeed in coming to a decision as to which is the most picturesquely situated
place or the most lovely view. Comparisons notoriously are odious, but delightful

as undoubtedly is the Hivieni <li I'onenta to me, tlie Riviera <li Levaute seems even
jnore lovely.

Aftei- I'irtra Sania, however, the scenery becomes less attractive, the Apuan
Alps begin to be left behind, and a wider strip of plain parts the Apennines from
the sea. This, which is traversed by the railway, is in itself flat, stale, though perhaps
not unprofitable to the husbandman. Viareggio, mentioned on a previous page,
nestles among its woods of oaks and pines, a place of some little note as a health
resort; and then the railway after emerging from the forest strikes away from
the sea, and crosses the marshy plains of the Serchio, towards the banks of the Arno.

It now approaches the grand group of ecclesiastical buildings which rise above
the walk of Pisa. As this town lies well inland, being six miles from the sea, we
must content ourselves with a brief mention. But a long description is needless, for
who does not know of its cathedral and its Campo Santo, of its baptistry and its
leaning tower? There is no more marvellous or complete group of ecclesiastical
buildings in Europe, all built of the white marble of Carrara, now changed by age
into a delicate cream colour, but still almost dazzling in the glory of the midday
sun, yet never so beautiful as when walls, arches, and pinnacles are aglow at its
rising or flushed at its setting. In the cloisters of the Campo Santo you may
see monuments which range over nearly five centuries, and contrast ancient and

Between Leg/torn ami (Jrosselo.

THE TUSCAN COAST.

177

modern art ; the frescoes on their walls, though often ill preserved and not seldom
of little merit, possess no small interest as illustrating mediaeval notions of a gospel
of love and peace. Beneath their roof at the present time are sheltered a few relics
of Roman and Etruscan days which will repay examination. The very soil also of
this God's acre is not without an interest, for when the Holy Land was lost
to the Christians, fifty -and -three shiploads of earth were brought hither from
Jerusalem
that the
dead of Pisa
might rest
in ground
which had
heen sancti-
fied by the
visible pre-
sence of their
Re dee iner.
The cathe-
d r a 1 is a
grand exam-
ple of the
severe but

stately style which was in favour about the
end of the eleventh century, for it was
consecrated in the year 1118. It comme-
morates a great naval victory won by the
Pisans, three years before the battle of
Hastings, and the columns which support

the arches of the interior were at once the spoils of classic buildings and the
memorials of Pisan victories. The famous leaning tower, though later in date,
harmonises well in general style with the cathedral. Its position, no doubt, attracts
most attention, for to the eye it seems remarkably insecure, but one cannot
help wishing that the settlement had never occurred, for the slope is sufficient to
interfere seriously with the harmony of the group. The baptistry also harmonises
with the cathedral, though it was not begun till some forty years after the latter
was completed, and not only was more than a century in building, but also received
some ornamental additions in the fourteenth century. But though this cathedral
group is the glory and the crown of Pisa, the best monument of its proudest days,
there are other buildings of interest in the town itself; and the broad quays which

Avenza.

17s Till-: PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Hank the Arno on each side, the Lungarno by name, which form a continuous
pa-sage from one end of the town to the other, together with the four bridges which
link its older and newer part, are well worthy of more than a passing notice.

The laud bordering the Arno between Pisa and its junction with the
Mediterranean has no charm for the traveller, however it may commend itself to the
farmer. A few miles south of the liver's mouth is Leghorn, and on the eleven
miles' journey by rail from it to Pisa the traveller sees as much, and perhaps
more, than he could wisli of the delta of the Arno. It is a vast alluvial plain,
always low-lying, in places marshy; sometimes meadow land, sometimes arable.
Here and there are slight and inconspicuous lines of dunes, very probably the
records of old sea margins as the river slowly encroached upon the Mediterranean,
which are covered sometimes with a grove of pines. Were it not for these and for
occasional large oak woods, one might almost expect to see the towers of
Peterborough rising in the distance instead of the dome and campanile of Pisa, so
much does the scenery remind us of the fen-land of East Anglia.

Leghorn is not an old town, and has little attraction for the antiquarian or the
artist. In fact, I think it, for its size, the most uninteresting town, whether on the
sea or inland, that I have entered in Italy. Brindisi is a dreary hole, but it has
one or two objects of interest. Bari is not very attractive, but it has two churches,
the architecture of which will repay long study ; but Leghorn is almost a miracle of
commonplace architecture and of dulness. Of course there is a harbour, of course
there are ships, of course there is the sea, and all these possess a certain charm ; but
really this is about as small as it can be under the circumstances. The town was a
creation of the Medici, " the masterpiece of that dynasty." In the middle of the
sixteenth century it was an insignificant place, with between seven and eight
hundred inhabitants. But it increased rapidly when the princes of that family took
the town in hand and made it a cave of Adullam, whither the discontented or
oppressed from other lands might resort : Jews and Moors from Spain and Portugal,
escaping from persecution; Eoman Catholics from England, oppressed by the
retaliatory laws of Elizabeth; merchants from Marseilles, seeking refuge from civil
war. Thus fostered, it was soon thronged by men of talent and energy; it rapidly
grew into an important centre of commerce, and now the town with its suburbs
contains nearly a hundred thousand souls.

Leghorn is intersected by canals, sufficiently so to have been sometimes called a
"Little Venice," and has been fortified, but as the defences belong to the system of
Yauban, they add little to either the interest or the pici uresqueness of the place.
Parts of the walls and the citadel remain, the latter being enclosed by a broad
water-ditch. The principal street has some good shops, and there are two fairly
large pia/xas; in one, bearing the name of Carlo Alberto, are statues of heroic size to

THE TUSCAN COAST. 1?9

the last Grand Duke and to his predecessor. The inscription on the latter is highly
flattering ; but that on the former states that the citizens had come to the conclusion
that the continuance of the Austro-Lorenese dynasty was incompatible with the good
order and happiness of Tuscany, and had accordingly voted union with Italy. The
other piazza now bears Victor Emmanuel's name ; in it are a building which formerly
was a royal palace, the town hall, and the cathedral ; the last a fair-sized church,
but a rather plain specimen of the Renaissance style, with some handsome columns of
real marble and a large amount of imitation, painted to match. There are also some
remains of the old fortifications, though they are not so very old, by the side of the
inner or original harbour. As this in course of time proved too shallow for vessels of
modern bulk, the Porto Nuovo, or outer harbour, was begun nearly forty years since,
and is protected from the waves by a semicircular mole. Among the other lions of
the place, and they are all very small, is a statue of Duke Ferdinand I., one of the
founders of Leghorn, with four Turkish slaves about the pedestal. The commerce
of Leghorn chiefly consists of grain, cotton, wool, and silk, and is carried on mainly
with the eastern ports of the Mediterranean There is also an important shipbuilding
establishment. It has, however, one link of interest with English literature, for in
the Protestant cemetery was buried Tobias Smollett. There is a pleasant public
walk by the sea margin outside the town, from where distant views of Elba and
other islands are obtained.

The hilly ground south of the broad valley of the Arno is of little interest,
and for a considerable distance a broad strip of land, a level plain of cornfields and
meadow, intervenes between the sea and the foot of the hills. Here and there
long lines of pine woods seem almost to border the former ; the rounded spurs of the
latter are thickly wooded, but are capped here and there by grey villages, seemingly
surrounded by old walls, and are backed by the bolder outlines of the more distant
Apennines. For many a long mile this kind of scenery will continue, this flat,
marshy, dyke-intersected plain, so like a Cambridgeshire fen except for the grey tint
of the soil, almost without a dwelling upon it, though village after village is seen
perched like epaulettes on the low shoulders of the hills. It is easy to understand
why they are placed in this apparently inconvenient position, for we are at the
beginning of the Tuscan Maremrna, a district scourged by malaria during the summer
months, and none too healthy, if one may judge by the looks of the peasants,
during any time of the year. But one cannot fail to observe that towards the
northern extremity houses have become fairly common on this plain, and many of
them are new, so that the efforts which have been made to improve the district
by draining seem to have met with success. For some time the seaward views are
very fine ; comparatively near to the coast a hilly island rises steeply from the
water and is crowned with a low round tower. Behind this lies Elba, a long, bold,

180

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

hilly ridge, and far away, on a clear day, the great mountain mass of Corsica looms
blue in the distance.

Elba has its interests for the geologist, its beauties for the lover of scenery.
It has quarries of granite and serpentine, but its fame rests on its iron mines, which
have been noted from very early times and from which fine groups of crystals
of hematite are still obtained. So famed was it in the days of the Roman Empire
as to call forth from Virgil the well-known line, " Insula inexhaustis chalybum
generosa metallis." When these, its masters, had long passed away, it belonged

Elba, from Ike Main/ami.

in turn to Pisa, to Genoa, to Lucca, and, after others, to the Grand Duke Cosimo
of Florence. Then it became Neapolitan, and at last French. As everyone knows, it
was assigned to Napoleon after his abdication, and from May, 1814, to February, 1815,
he enjoyed the title of King of Elba. Then, while discontent was deepening in
France, and ambassadors were disputing round the Congress-table at Vienna, he
suddenly gave the slip to the vessels which were watching the coast and landed in
France to march in triumph to Paris, to be defeated at Waterloo, and to die at
St. Helena.

The island is for the most part hilly, indeed almost mountainous, for it rises
at one place nearly three thousand feet above the sea. The valleys and lower
slopes are rich and fertile, producing good fruit and fair wine, and the views are

o
n
K

z
c

is-_> THE ncTuiiESQi'i-; MEDITERRANEAN.

often of great beauty. The fisheries are of some importance, especially that of
the tunny. Porto Ferrajo, the chief town, is a picturesquely situated place, on the
iinrthern side, which still rct.-iins the forts built by Cosiino I. to defend his newly
obtained territory, and the mansion, a very modest palace, inhabited by Napoleon.

" It must be confessed my isle is very little," was Napoleon's remark when for
1 1 ic first time he looked around over his kingdom from a mountain summit above Porto
Ferrajo. Little it is in reality, for the island is not much more than fifteen
miles long, and at the widest part ten miles across ; and truly little it must have
seemed to the man who had dreamed of Europe for his empire, and had half realised
his vision. Nevertheless, as one of his historians remarks, " if an empire could be
supposed to exist within such a brief space, Elba possesses so much both of beauty
and variety as might constitute the scene of a summer night's dream of sovereignty."

At first he professed to be " perfectly resigned to his fate, often spoke of himself
as a man politically dead, and claimed credit for what he said on public affairs, as
having no remaining interest in them." A comment on himself in connection with
Elba is amusing. He had been exploring his new domain in the company of Sir
Niel Campbell, and had visited, as a matter of course, the iron mines. On being
informed that they were valuable, and brought in a revenue of about twenty thousand
pounds per annum, "These then," he said, " are mine." But being reminded that he
had conferred that revenue on the Legion of Honour, he exclaimed, "Where was my
head when I made such a grant ? But I have made many foolish decrees of that sort ! "

He set to work at once to explore every corner of the island, and then to design
a number of improvements and alterations on a scale which, had they been carried
into execution with the means which he possessed, would have perhaps taken his
lifetime to execute. The instinct of the conqueror was by no means dead within him ;
for " one of his first, and perhaps most characteristic, proposals was to aggrandise and
extend his Lilliputian dominions by the occupation of an uninhabited island called
Pianosa, which had been left" desolate on account of the frequent descents of the
corsairs. He sent thirty of his guards, with ten of the independent company belonging
to the island, upon this expedition (what a contrast to those which he had formerly
directed!), sketched out a plan of fortification, and remarked with complacency,
'Europe will say that I have already made a conquest.'"

He was after a short time joined on the island by his mother and his sister
Pauline, and not a few of those who had once fought under his nag drifted gradually
to Elba and took service in his guards. A plot was organised in France, and when

was ready Napoleon availed himself of the temporary absence of Sir Niel
Campbell and of an English cruiser and set sail from Elba.

At four in the afternoon of Sunday, the 26th February, " a signal gun was fired,
the drums beat to arms, the officers tumbled what they could of their effects into

THE TUSCAN COAST. 183

flour-sacks, the men arranged their knapsacks, the embarkation began, and at eight
in the evening they were under weigh." He had more than one narrow escape on
his voyage ; for he w 7 as hailed by a French frigate. His soldiers, however, had
concealed themselves, and his captain was acquainted with the commander of the
frigate, so no suspicions were excited. Sir Niel Campbell also, as soon as he found
out what had happened, gave chase in a sloop of war, but only arrived in time to
obtain a distant view of Napoleon's flotilla as its passengers landed.

Pianosa, the island mentioned above, lies to the north of Elba, and gets its
name from its almost level surface ; for the highest point is said to be only eighty feet
above the sea. Considering its apparent insignificance, it figures more than could be
expected in history. The ill-fated son of Marcus Agrippa was banished here by
Augustus, at the instigation of Livia, and after a time was more effectually put out
of the way, in order to secure the succession for her son Tibemis. We read also
that it was afterwards the property of Marcus Piso, who used it as a preserve for
peacocks, which were here as wild as pheasants with us. Some remnants of Koman
baths still keep up the memory of its former masters. Long afterwards it became a
bone of contention between Pisa and Genoa, and the latter State, on permitting the
former to resume possession of these islands of the Tuscan Archipelago, stipulated
that Pianosa should be left for ever uncultivated and 'deserted. To secure the execution
of this engagement the Genoese stopped up all the wells with huge blocks of rock.

Capraja, a lovely island to the north-west of Elba, is rather nearer to Corsica
than to Italy. Though less than four miles long, and not half this breadth, it rivals
either in hilliness, for its ridges rise in two places more than fourteen hundred feet
above the sea. Saracen, Genoese, Pisan, and Corsican have caused it in bygone times
to lead a rather troubled existence, and even so late as 1796 Nelson knocked to
pieces the fort which defended its harbour, and occupied the island.

" The ' stagno,' or lagoon, the sea-marsh of Strabo, is a vast expanse of stagnant
salt w r ater, so shallow that it may be forded in parts, yet never dried up by the
hottest summer ; the curse of the country around for the foul and pestilent vapour
and the swarms of mosquitoes and other insects it generates at that season, yet
compensating the inhabitants with an abundance of fish. The fishery is generally
carried on at night, and in the way often practised in Italy and Sicily, by harpooning
the fish, which are attracted by a light in the prow of the boat. It is a curious
sight on calm nights to see hundreds of these little skiffs or canoes wandering about
with their lights, and making an ever-moving illumination on the surface of the lake."*

Elba seems to maintain some relation with the mainland by means of the
hilly promontory which supports the houses of Piornbino, a small town, chiefly
interesting as being at no great distance from Populonia, an old Etruscan city of

* Dennis : " Cities of Etruria."

TILE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

which some considerable ruins still remain. Here, when the clans gathered to bring
back the Tarquins to Rome, stood

"Sea-girt Pojiulonia,
Whose sentinels descry
Sardinia's snowy mountain tops
Fringing the southern sky/'

But long after Lars Porsenna of Clusium had retreated baffled from the broken
bridge Populouia continued to be a place of some importance, for it has a castle
erected in the Middle Ages. But now it is only a poor village ; it retains, however,

Porto Ferrajo, from Napoleon's House.

fragments of building recalling its Eoman masters, and its walls of polygonal masonry
carry us back to the era of the Etruscans.

It must not be forgotten that almost the whole of the coast line described in this
article, from the river Magra to Civita Vecchia, belonged to that mysterious and, not
so long since, almost unknown people, the Etruscans. Indeed, at one time their sway
extended for a considerable distance north and south of these limits. Even now there
i much dispute as to their origin, but they were a powerful and civilised race before
Rome was so much as founded. They strove with it for supremacy in Italy, and were
not finally subdued by that nation until the third century before our era. " Etruria
was of old densely populated, not only in those parts which are still inhabited, but
also, us is proved by remains of cities and cemeteries, in tracts now desolated by

THE TUSCAN COAST.

185

Napoleon's House.

Porto Fcrrajo, Elba.

malaria and relapsed into the desert ; and
what is now the fen or the jungle, the
hannt of the wild hoar, the buffalo, the
fox, and the noxious reptile, where man
often dreads to stay his steps, and hurries
away from a plague-stricken land, of old yielded rich harvests of corn, wine, and oil,
and contained numerous cities mighty and opulent, into whose laps commerce p.oured
the treasures of the East and the more precious produce of Hellenic genius. Most
of these ancient sites are now without a habitant, furrowed yearly by the plough, or
forsaken as unprofitable wildernesses ; and such as are still occupied are, with few
exceptions, mere phantoms of their pristine greatness, mere villages in the place of
populous cities. On every hand are traces of bygone civilisation, inferior in quality,
no doubt, to that which at present exists, biit much wider in extent and exerting
far greater influence on the neighbouring nations and on the destinies of the world."*
South of this headland the Maremma proper begins. Follonica, the only place
for some distance which can be called a town, is blackened with smoke to an
extent unusual in Italy, for here much of the iron ore from Elba is smelted. But
the views in the neighbourhood, notwithstanding the flatness of the marshy or
scrub-covered plain, are not without a charm. The inland hills are often attractive ; to
the north lie the headland of Piombino and sea-girt Elba, to the south the promontory
of Castiglione, which ends in a lower line of bluff capped by a tower, and the
irregular little island of Formica. At Castiglione della Pescaia is a little harbour,

* Di'imis: "Cities of Etrnria," I., i>. xxxii.

186 '/'///; I'H'Tl-llKXQlJE MEDITERRANEAN.

ODOfl fortified, which exports wood and charcoal, the products of the neighbouring hills.
The promontory of Castiglione must once have been an island, for it is parted
from the inland range by the level plain of the Maremma. Presently Grosseto,
the picturesque capital of the Maremma, appears, perched on steeply rising ground
above the enclosing plain, its sky-line relieved by a couple of low towers and a dome ;
it has been protected with defences, which date probably from late in the seventeenth
century. Then, after the Ombrone has been crossed, one of the rivers which issue
from the Apennines, the promontory of Talamone comes down to the sea, protecting
the village of the same name. It is a picturesque little place, overlooked by an
old castle, and the anchorage is sheltered by the island of S. Giglio, quiet enough
now, but the guide-book tells us that here, two hundred and twenty-five years before
the Christian era, the Eoman troops disembarked and scattered an invading Gaulish
army. But to the south lies another promontory on a larger scale than Talamone ;
this is the Monte Argentario, the steep slopes of which are a mass of forests. The views
on this part of the coast are exceptionally attractive. Indeed, it would be difficult to
find anything more striking than the situation of Orbitello. The town lies at the
foot of the mountain, for Argentario, since it rises full two thousand feet above the
sea, and is bold in outline, deserves the name. It is almost separated from the
mainland by a great salt-water lagoon, which is bounded on each side by two low
and narrow strips of land. The best view is from the south, where we look across
a curve of the sea to the town and to Monte Argentario with its double summit,
which, as the border of the lagoon is so low, seems to be completely insulated.

Orbitello is clearly proved to have been an Etruscan town ; perhaps, according
to Mr. Dennis, founded by the Pelasgi, "for the foundations of the sea-wall which
surrounds it on three sides are of vast polygonal blocks, just such as are seen in many
ancient sites of central Italy (Norba, Segni, Paleestrina, to wit), and such as compose
the walls of the neighbouring Cosa." Tombs of Etruscan construction have also been
found in the immediate neighbourhood of the city, on the isthmus of sand which connects
it with the mainland. Others also have been found within the circuit of the walls.
The tombs have been unusually productive ; in part, no doubt, because they appear
to have escaped earlier plunderers. Vases, numerous articles in bronze, and gold
ornaments of great beauty have been found. Of the town itself, which from the
distance has a very picturesque aspect, Mr. Dennis says : " It is a place of some size,
having nearly three thousand inhabitants, and among Maremma towns is second only
to Grosseto. It is a proof how much population tends to salubrity in the Maremma
that Orbitello, though in the midst of a stagnant lagoon ten square miles in extent,
is comparatively healthy, and has almost doubled its population in twenty-four years,
while Telamona and other small places along the coast are almost deserted in summer,
and the tew people that remain become bloated like wine-skins or yellow as lizards."

THE TUSCAN COAST. 187

But the inland district is full of ruins and remnants of towns which in many cases
were strongholds long before Komulus traced out the lines of the walls of Rome
with his plough, if indeed that ever happened. Ansedonia, the ancient Cosa, is a
very few miles away, Eusellae, Saturnia, Sovana at a considerably greater distance ;
farther to the south rises another of these forest-clad ridges which, whether
insulated by sea or by fen, are so characteristic of this portion of the Italian coast.
Here the old walls of Corno, another Etruscan town, may be seen to rise above
the olive-trees and the holm-oaks.

Beyond this the lowland becomes more undulating, and the foreground scenery
a little less monotonous. Corneto now appears, crowning a gently shelving plateau
at the end of a spur from the inland hills, which is guarded at last by a line of cliffs.
Enclosed by a ring of old walls, like Cortona, it " lifts to heaven a diadem of towers."
In site and in aspect it is a typical example of one of the old cities of Etruria.
Three hundred feet and more above the plain which parts it from the sea, with the
gleaming waters full in view on one side and the forest-clad ranges on the other,
the outlook is a charming one, and the attractions within its walls are by no means
slight. There are several old churches, and numerous Etruscan and Koman
antiquities are preserved in the municipal museum. The town itself, however, is
not of Etruscan origin, its foundation dates only from the Middle Ages ; but on
an opposite and yet more insulated hill the ruins of Tarquinii, one of the great
cities of the Etrurian League, can still be traced ; hardly less important than
Veii, one of the most active cities in the endeavour to restore the dynasty of
the Tarquins, it continued to flourish after it had submitted to Rome, but it
declined in the dark days which followed the fall of the Empire, and never held
up its head after it had been sacked by the Saracens, till at last it was deserted for
Corneto, and met the usual fate of becoming a quarry for the new town. Only
the remnants of buildings and of its defences are now visible ; but the great
necropolis which lies to the south-east of the Corneto, and on the same spur
with it, has yielded numerous antiquities. A romantic tale of its discovery, so late
as 1823, is related in the guide-books. A native of Corneto in digging accidentally
broke into a tomb. Through the hole he beheld the figure of a warrior extended
at length, accoutred in full armour. For a few minutes he gazed astonished, then
the form of the dead man vanished almost like a ghost, for it crumbled into dust
under the influence of the fresh air. Numerous subterranean chambers have since
been opened ; the contents, vases, bronzes, gems and ornaments, have been removed
to museums or scattered among the cabinets of collectors, but the mural paintings
still remain. They are the works of various periods from the sixth to the second
or third century before the Christian era, and are indicative of the influence exercised
by Greek art on the earlier inhabitants of Italy.

188

'////; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

As tlic headland,, crowned by the walls of Corneto, recedes into the distance
a little riM-r is crossed, which, unimportant as it seems, has a place in ecclesiastical
legend, for we are informed that at the Torre IVrtaldo, near its mouth, an angel
dispelled St. Augustine's doubts on. the subject of the Trinity. Then the road
approaches the largest port on the coast since Leghorn was left. Civita Yecchia,
as the name implies, is an old town, which, after the decline of Ostia, served
for centuries as the port of Koine. It was founded by Trajan, and sometimes
bore his name in oldeu time, but there is little or nothing within the walls to

Civita J'ecc/iia.

indicate so great an antiquity. It was harried, like so many other places near
the coast, by the Saracens, and for some years was entirely deserted, but about
the middle of the ninth century the inhabitants returned to it, and the town,
which then acquired its present name, by degrees grew into importance as the
temporal power of the Papacy increased. If there is little to induce the
traveller to halt, there is not much more to tempt the artist. Civita Yecchia
occupies a very low and faintly defined headland. Its houses are whitish in
colour, square in outline, and rather flat-topped. There are no conspicuous towers
or domes. It was once enclosed by fortifications, built at various dates about the
seventeenth century. These, however, have been removed on the land side, but
still remain fairly perfect in the neighbourhood of the harbour, the entrance to

Id
I
H

I
h
D

Id
1

190 '/'///; PICTURESQUE Mi-:i>iTi<:iiii.i\'i-:.\\.

which is protected liy a small island, from which rises a low massive lower and
a high circular pharos. There is neither animation nor commerce left in the
place ; what little there was disappeared when the railway was opened. It is
living up to its name, and its old age cannot he called vigorous.

South of Civita Veccliia the coast region, though often monotonous enough.

becomes for a time slightly more diversified. There is still some marshy ground,

still some level plain, hut the low and gently rolling hills which border the main

mass of the Apennines extend at times down to the sea, and even diversify its

coast-line, broken by a low headland. This now and again, as at Santa Marinella, is

crowned by an old castle. All around much evergreen scrub is seen, here growing in

tufts among tracts of coarse herbage, there expanding into actual thickets of considerable

extent, and the views sometimes become more varied, and even pretty. Santa Severa,

a large castle built of grey stone, with its keep-like group of higher towers on its low

crag overlooking the sea, reminds us of some old fortress on the Fifeshire coast.

Near this headland, so antiquarians say, was Pyrgos, once the port of the Etruscan

town of Caere, which lies away among the hills at a distance of some half-dozen

miles. Here and there also a lonely old tower may be noticed along this part of

the coast. These recall to mind in their situation, though they are more picturesque

in their aspect, the Martello Towers on the southern coast of England. Like them,

they are a memorial of troublous times, when the invader w r as dreaded. They were

erected to protect the Tuscan coast from the descents of the Moors, who for centuries

were the dread of the Mediterranean. Again and again 'these corsairs swooped

down ; now a small flotilla would attack some weakly defended town ; now a single

ship would land its boat-load of pirates on some unguarded beach to plunder a

neighbouring village or a few scattered farms, and would retreat from the raid with

a little spoil and a small band of captives, doomed to slavery, leaving behind

smoking ruins and bleeding corpses. It is strange to think how long it was

before perfect immunity was . secured from these curses of the Mediterranean.

England, whatever her enemies may say, has done a few good deeds in her time,

and one of the best was when her fleet, under the command of Admiral Pellew,

shattered the forts of Algiers and burnt every vessel of the pirate fleet.

The scenery for a time continues to improve. The oak woods become higher,
the inland hills are more varied in outline and are forest-clad. Here peeps out a crag,
there a village or a castle. At Palo a large, unattractive villa and a picturesque old
castle overlook a fine line of sea-beach, where the less wealthy classes in Koine
come down for a breath of fresh air in the hot days of summer. It also marks
ute of Alsium, where, in Roman times, one or two personages of note, of whom
Pompey was the most important, had country residences. For a time there is no
more level plain ; the land everywhere shelves gently to the sea, covered with wood

THE TUSCAN COAST.

191

Orbitcllo ami San Slefano.

or witli coarse herbage. But before long there is another change, and the great
plain of the Tiber opens out before our eyes, extending on one hand to the not
distant sea, on the other to the hills of Eome. It is flat, dreary, and unattractive,
at any rate in the winter season, as is the valley of the Nen below Peterborough,
or of the With am beyond the Lincolnshire wolds. It is cut up by dykes, which
are bordered by low banks. Here and there herds of mouse-coloured oxen with
long horns are feeding, and hay-ricks, round with low conical tops, are features
more conspicuous than cottages. The Tiber winds on its serpentine course through
this fenland plain, a muddy stream, which it was complimentary for the Eomans to
designate flavus, unless that word meant a colour anything but attractive. One low
tower in the distance marks the site of Porto, another that of Ostia, and near the
latter a long grove of pines is a welcome variation to the monotony of the landscape.
These two towns have had their day of greatness. The former, as its name
implies, was once the port of Eome, and in the early days of Christianity was a
place of note. It was founded by Trajan, in the neighbourhood of a harbour
constructed by Claudius ; for this, like that of Ostia, which it was designed to replace,
was already becoming choked up. But though emperors may propose, a river
disposes, especially when its mud is in question. The port of Trajan has long
since met with the same fate ; it is now only a shallow basin two miles from the
sea. Of late years considerable excavations have been made at Porto on the estate

////; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

<>!' Prince Tortonia, to \vlnnu the -whole >ite helongs. The port constructed by
Trajan was hexagonal in form ; it \vas surrounded hy warehouses and communicated
with the sea hy a canal. Piet \\een il and the outer or Claudian port a palace was
built for the emperor, and the remains of the wall erected hy Constantino to
protect the harbour on the side of the land can still be seen. The only media'val
antiquities which Porto contains are the old castle, which serves as the episcopal
palace, and the tower of the church of Santa Rnfina, which is at least as old as
the tenth century.

Ostia, which is a place of much greater antiquity than Porto, is not so
deserted, though its star declined as that of the other rose. Founded, as some
say, by Ancus Martins, it was the port of Koine until the first century of the
present era. Then the silting up of its communication with the sea caused the
transference of the commerce to Porto, but " the fame of the temple of Castor
and Pollux, the numerous villas of the Roman patricians abundantly scattered along
the coast, and the crowds of people who frequented its shores for the benefit of
sea bathing, sustained the prosperity of the city for some time after the destruction
of its harbour." But at last it went down hill, and then invaders came. Once it
had contained eighty thousand inhabitants ; in the days of the Medici it was a poor
village, and the people eked out their miserable existences by making lime of the
marbles of the ruined temples ! So here the vandalism of peasants, even more than
of patricians, has swept away many a choice relic of classic days. Villas and temples
alike have been destroyed ; the sea is now at a distance ; Ostia is but a small village,
"one of the most picturesque though melancholy sites near Rome," but durino- the

'I'll i- First Bridge on ///< .-I run.

THE TUSCAN COAST.

greater part of the present century careful excavations have been made, many
valuable art treasures have been unearthed, and a considerable portion of the ancient
city has been laid bare. Shops and dwellings, temples and baths, the theatre and
the forum, with many a remnant of the ancient town, can now be examined, and
numerous antiquities of smaller size are preserved in the museum at the old castle.
This, with its strong bastions, its lofty circular tower and huge machicolations,
is a very striking object as it rises above the plain " massive and grey against
the sky-line." It has been drawn by artists not a few, from liaffaelle, who saw it
when it had not very long been completed, down to the present time ; and " the tiny
town, huddled into the narrow fortified space which forms as it were an outer bastion
of the castle, contains the small semi-Gothic cathedral .... scarcely larger than
a chapel, and seeming out of keeping with the historical recollections of so many
mighty cardinal bishops." But, notwithstanding its present desolation, one mark of
the ancient greatness of Ostia still survives. " It is somewhat startling to find that
the second potentate of the West is not one of the great hierarchy of France, or
Germany, or Spain, or England, but the Bishop of the deserted Ostia, because
Ostia is the second see in the lioman States. It is he, with the Bishops of
Portus and Sabina, who crowns and anoints the Pope. It is ho who is the Dean
of the Sacred College." *

T. G. BONNEY.

* Stanley: "Christian Institutions," cli. xi.

Main Street of Fiombino,

.1 fountains of Calabria, from Sicily.

SICILY.

the traveller who proposes to enter Sicily hy the favourite sea-route from
Naples to Messina the approach to the island presents a scene of singular
interest and beauty. A night's voyage from the sunny bay which sleeps at the
foot of Vesuvius suffices to bring him almost within the shadow of Etna. By
daybreak he has jnst passed the Punta del Faro, the lighthoused promontory
at the extreme north-eastern angle of this three-cornered isle, the Trinacria of
the ancients, and is steaming into the Straits. Far to his left he can see, with
the eye of faith at any rate, the rock of Scylla jutting out from the Calabrian
coast, while the whirlpool of Charybdis, he will do well to believe, is eddying
and foaming at the foot of the Pharos a few hundred yards to his right. Here
let him resolutely locate the fabled monster of the gaping jaws into which were
swept those luckless mariners of old whose dread of Scylla drove them too near
to the Sicilian shore. Modern geographers may maintain (as what will they not
maintain?) that Charybdis should be identified with the Garofalo, the current which
sweeps round the breakwater of Messina seven miles to the south; but Circe
distinctly told Ulysses that the two monsters were not a "bowshot apart"; and
the perfectly clear and straightforward account given of the matter by vEneas to
Dido renders it impossible to doubt that Scylla and Charybdis faced each other
at the mouth of the Straits. The traveller will be amply justified in believing

KICILY. 195

that lie has successfully negotiated the passage between these two terrors as soon
as he has left the Pharos behind him and is speeding along the eastern coast
of the island towards the city of Messina.

Very hold and impressive grows the island scenery under the gradually
broadening daylight. Tier on tier above him rise the bare, brown hill-slopes,
spurs of the great mountain pyramid which he is approaching. These tumbled
masses of the mountains, deepening here where the night shadow still lingers
into downright black, and reddening there where they " take the morning " to
the colour of rusty iron, proclaim their volcanic character, to all who are familiar
with the signs thereof, unmistakably enough. Just such a ferruginous face does
Nature turn towards you as you drop down at twilight past the Isleta of Las
Palmas, in Gran Canaria, or work your way from the eastern to the western coast
of TenerifTe, round the spreading skirts of the Peak. Kock scenery of another
character is visible on the left, among the Calabriau mountains, dwarfed somewhat
by the nearer as well as loftier heights of the island opposite, but bearing no
mean part in the composition of the laud- and sea-scape, nevertheless. Mile after
mile the view maintains its rugged beauty, and when at last the town and harbour
of Messina rise in sight, and the fort of Castellaccio begins to fill the eye, to the
exclusion of the natural ramparts of the hills, the traveller will be fain to admit
that few islands in the world are approached through scenery so romantic and
so well attuned to its historic associations.

There are those who find Messina disappointing, and there is no doubt that
to quit the waters of a rock-embosomed strait for the harbour of a large commercial
seaport possessing no special claim to beauty of situation, is to experience a
certain effect of disenchantment. It would not be fair, however, to hold the
town, as a town, responsible for this. It is only some such jewel as Naples
or as Algiers that could vie with such a setting. Messina is not an Algiers
or a Naples ; it is only an honest, ancient, prosperous, active, fairly clean,
and architecturally unimpressive town. The chief commercial centre of Sicily,
with upwards of seventy thousand inhabitants, a Cathedral, an Archbishop, and a
University, it can afford, its inhabitants perhaps believe, to dispense with aesthetic
attractions. But its spacious quays, its fine and curiously shaped port, the
Harbour of the Sickle as it was called by the ancients when after it they
named the city " Zancle," have an interest of their own if they are without
much claim to the picturesque ; and the view from the Faro Grande on the curve
of the Sickle, with the Sicilian mountains behind, the Calabrian rocks in front,
and the Straits to the right and left of the spectator, is not to be despised.

Still, Messina is not likely to detain any pleasure-tourist long, especially with
Taormina, the gem of the island, and one might almost say, indeed, of all Italy,

1 '.)(>

Till-: l'l< 7V/,'/-;.S7 < >r/v MEDITERRANEAN.

awaiting him at only the distance of a railway journey of sonic 1 sixty to a hundred
miles. The line from Messina to (liardini, the station for Taormina, and the spot
whence (larihaldi crossed to Calabria in (lie autumn of 18GO, skirts the sea-coast,
burrowing under headlands and spanning dry river-beds for a distance of thirty-
miles, amid the scenery which lias been already viewed from the Straits, hut which
loses now from its too close neighbourhood to the eye. The rock-built town of
ancient Taormina is perched upon a steep and craggy bluff some four hundred
feet above the railway line, and is approached by an extremely circuitous road of
about three miles in length. Short cuts there are for the youthful, the impetuous,
and the sound in wind ; but even these fortunate persons might do worse than
save their breath and restrain their impatience to reach their destination, if only
for the sake of the varying panorama which unfolds itself as they ascend from level
to level on their winding way. There can be no denying that Taormina stands
nobly and confronts the Straits with a simple dignity that many greater and
even higher cities might well envy. To see it from a favouring angle of the
battlemented road, with the southern sunlight bathing its bright white walls
and broken lines of housetops, with the tower of Sant' Agostino traced against the
cone of Etna, and the wall that skirts it almost trembling 011 the utmost verge of
the cliff, while at the foot of the declivity the Straits trend southward in " tender,
curving lines of creamy spray," to see this is at least to admit that some short

I \ionu ina.

MASSA, NEAR CARRARA.

SICILY.

107

Church of San? Agoslino, Taonnina.

cuts are not worth taking, and that the bridle-path up the hillside might well be
left to those animals for whose use it was constructed, and who are generally
believed to prefer an abridgment of tlieir journey to any conceivable enhancement of
its picturesque attractions.

At Taonnina one may linger long. The pure, inspiriting air of its lofty plateau, and
the unequalled beauty of the prospect which it commands, would alone be sufficient
to stay the hurried footsteps of even the most time-pressed of " globe-trotters " ;
but those who combine a love of scenery with a taste for archaeology and the
classical antique will find it indeed a difficult place to leave. For, a little way above
the town, and in the centre of an exquisite landscape, stand the magnificent ruins of
the Greek Theatre, its auditorium, it is true, almost levelled with the plain, but
more perfect as to the remains of its stage and proscenium than any other in
Sicily, and, with one exception, in tbe world. But there is no need to be a scholar
or an antiquarian to feel tbe extraordinary fascination of the spot. Nowhere among
all the relics of bygone civilisations have Time and Nature dealt more piously with
the work of man. Every spring and summer that have passed over those mouldering
columns and shattered arches have left behind them their tribute of clasping creeper
and clambering wild flower and softly draping moss. Boulder arid plinth in common,
the masonry alike of Nature and of man, have mellowed into the same exquisite

L98 THE i>i("rriii-:x( t )ri-: MEDITERRANEAN.

liannony of greys and greens; and the eye seeks in v;iin to distinguish between the
lutndiwork of the Great Mother and those monuments of her long-dead children
which she lias clothed with au immortality of her own.

Apart, however, from the indescribable charm of its immediate surroundings, the
plateau of the theatre must fix itself in the memory of all who have entered Sicily
by way of Messina as having afforded them their first " clear " view of Etna, their
first opportunity, that is to say, of looking at the majestic mountain uniutercepted at
any point of its outline or mass by objects on a lower level. The whole panorama
indeed from this point is magnificent. To the left, in the foreground, rise the
heights of Castiglioue from the valley of the Alcantara ; while, as the eye moves
round the prospect from left to right, it lights in succession on the hermitage of
S. Maria della Eocca, the Castle of Taormina, the overhanging hill of Mola, and
Monte Venere towering above it. But, dominating the whole landscape, and
irresistibly recalling to itself the gaze which wanders for a moment to the nearer
chain of mountains or the blue Calabrian hills across the Strait, arises the
never-to-be-forgotten pyramid of Etna, a mountain unrivalled in its combination
of majesty and grace, in the soft symmetry of its " line," and the stern contrast
between its lava-scarred sides, with their associations of throe and torture, and
the eternal peace of its snow-crowned head. It will be seen at a closer view from
Catania, and, best of all, on the journey from that place to Syracuse ; but the
first good sight of it from Taormina, at any rate when weather and season have
been favourable, is pretty sure to become an abiding memory.

Twenty miles farther southwards along the coast lie the town and baths of
Aci Eeale, a pleasant resort in the "cure" season, but to others than invalids
more interesting in its associations with Theocritus and Ovid, with " Homer the
Handel of Epos, and Handel the Homer of song ; " in a word, with Acis and
Galatea, and Polyphemus, and the much-enduring Ulysses. Aci Castello, a couple
of miles or so down the -coast, is, to be precise, the exact spot which is
associated with these very old-world histories, though Polyphemus's sheep-run probably
extended far along the coast in both directions, and the legend of the giant's
defeat and discomfiture by the hero of the Odyssey is preserved in the nomenclature
of the rocky chain which juts out at this point from the Sicilian shore. The Scogli
dei Ciclopi are a fine group of basaltic rocks, the biggest of them some two hundred
feet in height and two thousand feet in circumference, no doubt " the stone far greater
than the first" with which Polyphemus took his shot at the retreating Wanderer,
and which "all but struck the end of the rudder." It is a capital "half-brick" for a
giant to " heave " at a stranger, whether the Cyclops did, in fact, heave it or not ;
and, together with its six companions, it stands out bravely and with fine sculpturesque
effect against the horizon. A few miles farther on is Catania, the second city in

K ICILY. 199

population and importance of Sicily, but, except for one advantage which would
give distinction to the least interesting of places, by no means the second in respect
of beauty. As a town, indeed, it is commonplace. Its bay, though of ample
proportions, has no particular grace of contour ; and even the clustering masts in its
busy harbour scarcely avail to break the monotony of that strip of houses on the flat
seaboard, which, apart from its surroundings, is all that constitutes Catania. But
with Etna brooding over it day and night, and the town lying outstretched and
nestling between the two vast arms which the giant thrusts out towards the sea on
each side, Catania could not look wholly prosaic and uninteresting even if she tried.

We must again return to the mountain, and in a work on the " Picturesque
Mediterranean " need plead no excuse for so doing. For Etna, it must be
remembered, is a persistent feature, is the persistent feature of the landscape
along nearly the whole eastern coast of Sicily from Panta di Faro to the Cape
of Santa Croce, if not to the promontory of Syracuse. Its omnipresence becomes
overawing as one hour of travel succeeds another and the great motmtain is as
near as ever. For miles upon miles by this southward course it haunts the
traveller like a reproving conscience. Each successive stage on his journey gives him
only a different and not apparently more distant view. Its height, ten thousand feet,
although, of course, considerable, seems hardly sufficient to account for this
perpetual and unabating prominence, which, however, is partly to be explained by
the outward trend taken by the sea-coast after we pass Catania, and becoming more
and more marked during the journey from that city to Syracuse. There could be
no better plan of operations for one who wishes to view the great mountain
thoroughly, continuously, protractedly, and at its best, than to await a favourable
afternoon, and then to take the journey in question by railway, so timing it as to
reach the tongue of Santa Croce about sunset. From Catania to Lentini the
traveller has Etna, wherever visible, on his right ; at Lentini the line of railway
takes a sharp turn to the left, and, striking the coast at Agnone, hugs it all
along the northern shore of the promontory, terminating with Cape Santa Croce,
upon approaching which point it doubles back upon itself, to follow the " re-entering
angle " of the cape, and then, once more turning to the left, runs nearly due
southward along the coast to Syracuse. Throughout the twenty miles or so from
Lentini to Augusta, beneath the promontory of Santa Croce, Etna lies on the
traveller's left, with the broad blue bay fringed for part of the way by a mile-wide
margin of gleaming sand between him and it. Then the great volcanic cone, all its
twenty miles from summit to sea-coast foreshortened into nothingness by distance,
seems to be rising from the very sea ; its long-cooled lava streams might almost be
mingling with the very waters of the bay. As the rays of the westering sun strike
from across the island upon silver-grey sand and blue-purple sea and russet-iron

200

////; PICTURESQUE M EDIT !; in;. \ M:AN.

mountain ^opcs, one's first impulse is to exclaim with Wordsworth, in vastly differing
circumstances, that "earth hath not anything to show more fair." But it lias.
For he who can prolong his view of the mountain until after the sun has actually
sunk \\ill find that even the sight he has just witnessed can he surpassed.
He must wait lor the moment when the silver has gone out of the sand, and
the purple of the sea has changed to grey, and the russet of Etna's lava slopes is

deepening into hlack ;
for that is also the
moment when the pink
flush of the departed
sunset catches its peak
and closes the symphony
of colour with a chord
more exquisitely sweet
than all.

From Cape Santa
Croce to Syracuse the
route declines a little
perhaps in interest. The
great volcano which has

filled the eye throughout
i
the journey is now less

favourably placed for the
view, and sometimes, as
when the railway skills
the Bay of Megara in a
due southward direction,
is altogether out of sight.
Nor does the approach

to Syracuse quite prepare one for the pathetic charm of this most interesting of the
great, dead, half-deserted cities of the ancient world, or even for the singular
beauty of its surroundings. You have to enter the inhabited quarter itself, and to
take up your abode on that mere sherd and fragment of old Greek Syracuse, the
Island of Ortygia, to which the present town is confined (or rather, you have to
begin by doing this, and then to sally forth on a long walk of exploration round
the conform, to trace the line of the ancient fortifications, and to map out as best you
may the four other quarters, each far larger than Ortygia, which, long since given
over to orange-gardens and scattered villas and farmhouses, were once no doubt
well-peopled districts of the ancient city), ere you begin either to discover its

Entrance to Ma/a.

SICILY.

201

Rocks of the Cyclops.

elements of material beauty or to feel anything of its spiritual magic. It is hard to
helieve that this decayed and apparently still decaying little island town was once the
largest of the Hellenic cities, twenty miles, according to Straho, in circumference,
and even in the time of Cicero containing in one of its now deserted quarters " a
very large Forum, most beautiful porticoes, a highly decorated Town Hall, a most
spacious Senate House, and a superb Temple of Jupiter Olympius." K spoiler more
insatiable than Yerres has, alas ! carried off all these wonders of art and architecture,
and of most of them not even a trace of the foundations remains. Of the magnificent
Forum a single unfluted column appears to be the solitary relic. The porticoes, the
Town Hall, the Senate House, the Temple of the Olympian Jove are irrecoverable even
by the most active architectural imagination. But the west wall of the district which
contained these treasures is still partially traceable, and in the adjoining quarter of
the ancient city we find ourselves in its richest region both of the archaeological and
the picturesque.

For here is the famous Latomia del Paradiso, quarry, prison, guard-house, and
burial-place of the Syracusan Greek, and the yet more famous Theatre, inferior to
that of Taormina in the completeness of the stage and proscenium, but containing
the most perfectly preserved auditorium in the world. The entrance to the Latomia,
that gigantic, ear-shaped orifice hewn out of the limestone cliff, and leading into a
vast whispering-chamber, the acoustic properties of which have caused it to be

202 Till-: PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

identilied with the (historic or legendary) Kar of Dionysius, has a strange, wild
impressiveness of its own. JJut in beauty though not in grandeur it is excelled by
another abandoned limestone <iiiiirry in the neighbourhood, \vhieh has been converted
l,v its owner into an orangery. This lies midway between the Latomia del Paradise
and the (Quarry of the Cappuccini, and is in truth a lovely retreat, Over it broods
the perfect stillness that never seems so deep as in those deserted places which
have once been haunts of busy life. It is rich in the spiritual charm of natural
beauty and the sensuous luxury of sub-tropical culture : close at hand the green and
gold of orange trees, in the middle distance the solemn plumes of the cypresses, and
farther still the dazzling white walls of the limestone which the blue sky bends
down to meet.

To pass from the quarries to the remains of the Greek Theatre hard by is in
some measure to exchange the delight of the eye for the subtler pleasures of mental
association. Not that the concentric curves of these mouldering and moss-lined stone
benches are without their appeal to the senses. On the contrary, they are
beautiful in themselves, and, like all architectural ruins, than which no animate
things in nature more perfectly illustrate the scientific doctrine of " adaptation to
environment," they harmonise deliciously in line and tone with their natural
surroundings. Yet to most people, and especially so to those of the contemplative
habit, the Greek Theatre at Syracuse, like the Amphitheatres of Rome and Verona,

will be most impressive at moments when the senses are least active and the

i
imagination busiest. It is when we abstract the mind from the existing conditions of

the ruin ; it is when we " restore " it by those processes of mental architecture which
can never blunder into Vandalism ; it is when we re-people its silent, time-worn
benches with the eager, thronging life of twenty centuries ago, that there is most
of magic in its spell. And here surely imagination has not too arduous a task,
so powerfully is it assisted by the wonderful completeness of these remains. More
than forty tiers of seats shaped out of the natural limestone of the rock can still
be quite distinctly traced ; and though their marble facings have of course long
mouldered into dust, whole cunei of them are still practically as uninjured by time,
still as fit for the use for which they were intended, as when the Syracusans of the
great age of Attic Drama flocked hither to hear the tragedies of that poet whom
they so deeply reverenced that to be able to recite his verse was an accomplishment
rewarded in the prisoners who possessed it by liberation from bondage. To the lover
of classical antiquity Syracuse will furnish "moments" in abundance ; but at no other
spot either in Ortygia itself or in these suburbs of the modern city, not at the
Fountain of Arethusa on the brink of the great port ; not in the Temple of Minerva,
now the Cathedral, with its Doric columns embedded in the ignominy of plaster; not
in that wildest and grandest of those ancient Syracusan quarries, the Latomia dei

SICILY. 208

Cappucciui, where the ill-fated remnant of the routed army of Nicias is supposed
to have expiated in forced labour the failure of the Sicilian Expedition, will he find
it so easy to rebuild the ruined past as here on this desolate plateau, with these
perfect monuments of the immortal Attic stage around him, and at his feet the town,
the harbour, the promontory of Plemmyriurn, the blue waters of the Ionian Sea.

It is time, however, to resxnne our journey, and to make for that hardly less
interesting or less beautifully situated town of Sicily which is usually the next
halting-place of the traveller. The route to Girgenti from Syracuse is the most
circuitous piece of railway communication in the island. To reach our destination
it is necessary to retrace our steps almost the whole way back to Catania. At Bicocca,
a few miles distant from that city, the line branches off into the interior of the
country for a distance of some fifty or sixty miles, when it is once more deflected,
and then descends in a south-westerly direction towards the coast. At a few miles
from the sea, within easy reach of its harbour, Porto Empedocle, lies Girgenti. The
day's journey will have been an interesting one. Throughout its westward course the
line, after traversing the fertile Plain of Catania, the rich grain-bearing district which
made Sicily the granary of the Koman world, ascends gradually into a mountainous
region and plunges between Calascibetfca and Castrogiovanni into a tortuous ravine,
above which rise towering the two last-named heights. The latter of the two is
planted on the site of the plain of Enna, the scene of the earliest abduction
recorded in history. Elowers no longer flourish in the same abundance on the
meads from which Persephone was carried off by the Dark King of Hades ; but
the spot is still fair and fertile, truly a "green navel of the isle," the central
Omphalos from which the eye ranges northward, eastward, and south-westward over
each expanse of Trinacria's triple sea. But those who do not care to arrest their
journey for the sake of sacrificing to Demeter, or of enjoying the finest, in the
sense of the most extensive, view in Sicily, may yet admire the noble situation
of the rock-built town of Castrogiovauni looking down upon the railway from
its beetling crag.

Girgenti, the City of Temples, the richest of all places in the world save one
in monuments of Pagan worship, conceals its character effectually enough from him
who enters it from the north. AVithin the precincts of the existing city there is
little sign to be seen of its archaeological treasures, and, to tell the truth, it has
but few attractions of its own. Agrigentum, according to Pindar "the most beautiful
city of mortals," will not so strike a modern beholder; but that, no doubt, is because,
like Syracuse and other famous seats of ancient art and religious reverence, it has
shrunk to dimensions so contracted as to leave all the riches of those stately
edifices to which it owed the fame of its beauty far outside its present boundaries.
Nothing, therefore, need detain the traveller in the town itself (unless, indeed, he

201

Till-: I'K 'Tl -HKHQUE MEDITKIli:. I .\7. . I .V.

Catania.

would snatch ;i brief visit to the later-built cathedral, remarkable for nothing but the
famous marble sarcophagus with its relief of the Myth of Hippolytus), and he will do
well to mount the Kupe Atenea without delay. The view, however, in every direction
is magnificent, the town to the right of the spectator and behind him, the sea in
front, and the rolling, ruin-dotted plain between. From this point Girgenti itself
looks imposing enough with the irregular masses of its roofs and towers silhouetted
against the sky. But it is the seaward view which arrests and detains the eye. Hill
summit or hotel window, it matters little what or where your point of observation is,
you have but to look from the environs of (lirgenti towards Porto Empedocle, a few
miles to the south, and you bring within yoiu field of vision a space of a few dozen
acres in extent which one may reasonably suppose to have no counterpart in any area
of like dimensions on the face of the globe. It is a garden of mouldering shrines,
a positive orchard of shattered porticoes and broken column-shafts, and huge pillars
prostrate at the foot of their enormous plinths. You can count and identify and
name them all even from where you stand. Ceres and Proserpine, Juno Lacinia,
Concord, Hercules, /Esculapius, Jupiter Olympius, Castor and Pollux, all are visible
at once, all recognisable and numerable from east to w r est in their order as
above. It is a land of ruined temples, and, to all appearance, of nothing else.
One can just succeed, indeed, in tracing the coils of the railway as it winds like
a black snake towards Porto Empedocle, but save that there are no signs of life.
One descries no waggon upon the roads, no horse in the furrows, no labourer
among the vines. Girgenti itself, with its hum and clatter, lies behind you;
no glimpse of life or motion is visible on the quays of the port. All seems as
desolate as those grey and mouldering fanes of the discrowned gods, a solitude

SICILY.

206

which only changes in character without deepening in intensity as the eye travels
across the foam-fringed coast-line out on the sailless sea. There is a strange
beauty in this silent Pantheon of dead deities, this landscape which might almost
seem to he still echoing the last wail of the dying Pan ; and it is a beauty of
death and desolation to which the life of nature, here especially abounding,
contributes not a little by contrast. For nowhere in Sicily is the country-side
more lavishly enriched by the olive. Its contorted stem and quivering, silvery
foliage are everywhere. Olives climb the hill-slopes in straggling files ; olives cluster
in twos and threes and larger groups upon the level plain ; olives trace themselves
against the broken walls of the temples, and one catches the flicker of their branches
in the sunlight that streams through the roofless peristyles. From llupe Atenea
out across the plain to where the eye lights upon the white loops of the road to
Porto Empedocle one might almost say that every object which is not a temple
or a fragment of a temple is an olive tree.

By far the most interesting of the ruins from the archaeologist's point of view
is that of the Temple of Concord, which, indeed, is one of the best-preserved in
existence, thanks, curiously enough, to the religious Philistinism which in the
Middle Ages converted it into a Christian church. It was .certainly not in the
spirit of its tutelary goddess that it was so transformed : nothing, no doubt, was
farther from the thoughts of those who thus appropriated the shrine of Concord than
to illustrate the doctrine of the unity of religion. But art and archaeology, if not

The Creek Theatre, Syracuse.

.JIM; THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

romance, have good reason to thank them that they "took over'' the building on any
grounds, for it is, of course, to this circumstance that we owe 'its perfect condition
of preservation, and the fact that all the details of the Doric style as applied
to religious architecture can he studied in this temple while so much of so many
of its companion fanes has crumbled into indistinguishable ruin. Concordia has
remained virtually intact through long centuries under the homely title of "the Church
of St. Gregory of the Turnips," and it real's its stately facade before the spectator
in consequence with architrave complete, a magnificent hexastyle of thirty-four
columns, its lateral files of thirteen shafts apiece receding in noble lines of perspective.
Juno Laciuia, or Juno Luciuda (for it may have been either as the " Lacinian
Goddess " or as the Goddess of Childbed that Juno was worshipped here), an older
fane than Concordia, though the style had not yet entered on its decline when the
latter temple was built, is to be seen hard by, a majestic and touching ruin. It dates
from the fifth century B.C., and is therefore Doric of the best period. Earthquakes,
it seems, have co-operated with time in the work of destruction, and though twenty-five
whole pillars are left standing, the facade, alas ! is represented only by a fragment of
architrave. More extensive still have been the ravages inflicted on the Temple of
Hercules by his one unconquerable foe. This great and famous shrine, much
venerated of old by the Agrigentines, and containing that statue of the god which the
indefatigable "collector" Verres vainly endeavoured to loot, is now little more than a

heap of tumbled masonry, with one broken column-shaft alone still standing at one

i
extremity of its site. But it is among the remains of the ancient sanctuary of Zeus,

all unfinished though that edifice was left by its too ambitious designers, that we
get the best idea of the stupendous scale on which those old-world religious architects
and masons worked. The ruin itself has suffered cruelly from the hand of man ; so
much so, indeed, that little more than the ground plan of the temple is to be traced
by the lines of column bases, vast masses of its stone having been removed from its
site to be used in the construction of the Mole. But enough remains to show the
gigantic scale on which the work was planned and partially carried out. The pillars
which once stood upon those bases were twenty feet in circumference, or more than
two yards in diameter, and each of their flutings forms a niche big enough to contain
a man ! Yon Caryatid, who has been carefully and skilfully pieced together from
the fragments doubtless of many Caryatids, and who now lies, hands under head,
supine and staring at the blue sky above him, is more than four times the average
height of an English lifeguardsmau. From the crown of his bowed Lead to his stony
soles he measures all twenty-five feet, and to watch a tourist sitting by or on him
and gazing on Girgenti in the distance is to be visited by a touch of that feeling of
the irony of human things to which Shelley gives expression in his " Ozymandias."
The railway route from Girgenti to Palermo is less interesting than that from

SICILY. 207

Catania to Girgeuti. It runs pretty nearly due south and north across the island
from shore to shore, through a country mountainous indeed, as is Sicily everywhere,
but not marked by anything particularly striking in the way of highland scenery.
At Termini we strike the northern coast, and the line branches off to the west.
Another dozen miles or so brings us to Santa Flavia, whence it is but half an hour's
walk to the ruins of Soluntum, situated on the easternmost hill of the promontory of
Catalfano. The coast-view from this point is striking, and on a clear day the
headland of Cefalu, some twenty miles away to the eastward, is plainly visible. Ten
more miles of "westing" and we approach Palermo, the Sicilian capital, a city
better entered from the sea, to which it owes its beauty as it does its name.

To the traveller fresh from Girgenti and its venerable ruins, or from Syracuse with
its classic charm, the first impressions of Palermo may very likely prove disappointing.
Especially will they be so if he has come with a mind full of historic enthusiasm
and a memory laden with the records of Greek colonisation, Saracen dominion, and
Norman conquest, and expecting to find himself face to face with the relics and
remainder of at any rate the modern period of the three. For Palermo is
emphatically what the guide-books are accustomed to describe as "a handsome
modern city"; which means, as most people familiar with the Latin countries are
but too well aware, a city as like any number of other Continental cities, built and
inhabited by Latin admirers and devotees of Parisian "civilisation," as "two peas in
a pod." In the Sicilian capital the passion for the monotonous magnificence of the
boulevard has been carried to an almost amusing pitch. Palermo may be regarded
from this point of view as consisting of two most imposing boulevards of approximately
eqiial length, each bisecting the city with scrupulous equality from east to west and
from north to south, and intersecting each other in its exact centre at the
mathematically precise angle of ninety degrees. You stand at the Porta Felice, the
water-gate of the city, with your back to the sea, and before you, straight as a die,
stretches the handsome Via Vittorio Emanuele for a mile or more ahead. You
traverse the handsome Via Vittorio Emanuele for half its length and you come to
the Quattro Canti, a small octagonal piazza, which boasts itself to be the very head
of Palermo, and from this " Carfax," this intersection of four cross-roads, you see
stretching to right and left of jo\i the equally handsome Via Macqueda. Walk down
either of these two great thoroughfares, the Macqueda or the Vittorio Emanuele, and
you will be equally satisfied with each ; the only thing which may possibly mar your
satisfaction will be your consciousness that you would be equally satisfied with the
other, and, indeed, that it requires an effort of memory to recollect in which of the
two you are. There is nothing to complain of in the architecture or decoration
of the houses. All is correct, regular, and symmetrical in line, bright and cheerful
in colour, and, as a whole, absolutely wanting in individuality and charm.

Jl ),s

THE

f E MED1TE1UL 1 M'.AN.

It is, however, of course impossible to kill an ancient and interesting city altogether
with boulevards. Palermo, like every other city, lias its "bits," to be found without,
much difficulty by anyone who will quit the beaten track of the two great thoroughfares
and go a-i|iit sting for them himself. lie may thus find enough here and there to
remind him that he is living on the "silt" of three, nay, four civilisations, on a
fourfold formation to which Greek and Koman, Saracen and Norman, have eacli
contributed its successive layer. It need hardly be said that the latter has left the
deepest traces of any. The Palazzo Reale, the first of the Palermitan sights to
which the traveller is likely to bend his way, will afford the best illustration of
this. Saracenic- in origin, it has received successive additions from half-a-dozen

(iil-'VII/l.

SICILY.

Norman princes, from Robert Guiscard downwards, and its chapel, the Cappella
Palatina, built by lloger II. in the early part of the twelfth century, is a gem
of decorative art which would alone justify a journey to Sicily to behold. The
purely architectural beauties of the interior are impressive enough, but the eye loses
all sense of them among the wealth of their decoration. The stately files of
Norman arches up the nave would in any other building arrest the gaze of the
spectator, but in the Cappella Palatina one can think of nothing but mosaics.
Mosaics are everywhere, from western door to eastern window, and from northern

, View in Girgenti.

to southern transept wall. A full-length, life-sized saint in mosaic grandeur looks
down upon you from every interval between the arches ' of the nave, and medallions
of saints in mosaic, encircled with endless tracery and arabesque, form the inner
face of every arch. Mosaic angels float with outstretched arms above the apse.
A colossal Madonna and Bambino, overshadowed by a hovering Pere Eternel, peer
dimly forth in mosaic across the altar through the darkness of the chancel. The
ground is golden throughout, and the sombre richness of the effect is indescribable.
In Palermo and its environs, in the Church of Martorana, and in the Cathedral
of Monreale, no less than here, there is an abundance of that same decoration,
and the mosaics of the latter of the two edifices above mentioned are held to be
the finest of all ; but it is by those of the Cappella Palatina, the first that he
is likely to make the acquaintance of, that the visitor, not being an expert or

v///-; PICTVB&8QVE MEDITKHIIAXEAN.

connuisseur iu this particular species of art-work, will perhaps be the most deeply
impressed.

The Palaxxo Eeale may doubtless too be remembered by him, as affording
him the point of view from which lie has obtained his first idea of the unrivalled
situation of Palermo. From the flat roof of the Observatory, fitted up in the
tower of S. Ninfa, a noble panorama lies stretched around us. The spectator is
standing midway between Amphitrite and the Golden Shell that she once cast in
sport upon the shore. Behind him lies the Conca d'Oro, with the range of
mountains against which it rests, Grifone and Cuccio, and the Billieni Hills, and
the road to Monreale winding up the valley past La Eocca ; in front lies the
noble curve of the gulf, from Cape Mongerbino to the port, the bold outlines of
Monte Pellegrino, the Bay of Moudello still farther to the left, and Capo di
Gallo completing the coast-line with its promontory dimly peering through the
ha/e. Palermo, however, does not perhaps unveil the full beauty of its situation
elsewhere than down at the sea's edge, with the city nestling in the curve behind
one and Pellegrino rising across the waters in front.

But the environs of the city, which are of peculiar interest and attraction,
invite us, and first among these is Monreale, at a few miles' distance, a suburb
to which the traveller ascends by a road commanding at every turn some new
and striking prospect of the bay. On one hand, as he leaves the town, lies
the Capuchin Monastery, attractive with its catacombs of mummified ex-citizens
of Palermo to the lover of the gruesome rather than of the picturesque.
Farther on is the pretty Villa Tasca, then La Eocca, whence by a winding
road of very ancient construction we climb the royal mount crowned by the
famous Cathedral and Benedictine Abbey of Monreale. Here more mosaics, as has
been said, as fine in quality and in even greater abundance than those which
decorate the interior of the Cappella Palatina ; they cover, it is said, an area
of seventy thousand four hundred square feet. From the Cathedral we pass into
the beautiful cloisters, and thence into the fragrant orange-garden, from which
another delightful view of the valley towards Palermo is obtained. San Martino,
the site of a suppressed Benedictine monastery, is the next spot of interest. A
steep path branching off to the right from Monreale leads to a deserted fort,
named II Castellaccio, from which the road descends as far as S. Martino,
whence a pleasant journey back to Palermo is made through the picturesque
valley of Bocca di Falco.

The desire to climb a beautiful mountain is as strong as if climbing it were
not as effectual a way of hiding its beauties as it would be to sit upon its
picture; and Monte Pellegrino, sleeping in the sunshine, and displaying the noble
lines of what must surely be one of the most picturesque mountains in the

SICILY. 211

world, is likely enough to lure the traveller to its summit. That mass 1 of grey
limestone, which takes such an exquisite flush under the red rays of the evening,
is not difficult to climh. The zigzag path which mounts its sides is plainly
visible from the town, and though steep at first, it grows gradually easier of
ascent on the upper slopes of the mountain. Pellegrino was originally an island,
and is still separated by the plain of the Conca d'Oro from the other mountains
near the coast. Down to a few centuries ago it was clothed with underwood,
and in much earlier times it grew corn for the soldiers of Hamilcar Barca, who
occupied it in the first Punic War. Under an overhanging rock on its summit
is the Grotto of Sta. Eosalia, the patron saint of the city, the maiden whom
tradition records to have made this her pious retreat several centuries ago, and
the discovery of whose remains in 1064 had the effect of instantaneously staying
the ravages of the plague by which Palermo was just then being desolated. The
grotto has since been converted, as under the circumstances was only fitting, into
a church, to which many pilgrimages are undertaken by the devout. A steep
path beyond the chapel leads to the survey station on the mountain top, from
which a far-stretching view is commanded. The cone of Etna, over eighty miles off
as the crow flies, can be seen from here, and still farther to the north, among the
Liparaan group, the everlasting furnaces of Stromboli and Vulcano. There is a steeper
descent of the mountain towards the south-west, and either by this or by retracing
our original route we regain the road, which skirts the base of the mountain on the
west, and, at four miles' distance from the gate of the town, conducts to one of
the most charmingly situated retreats that monarch ever constructed for himself,
the royal villa-chateau of La Favorita, erected by Ferdinand IV. (Ferdinand I. of the
Two Sicilies), otherwise not the least uncomfortable of the series of uncomfortable
princes whom the Bourbons gave to the South Italian peoples.

Great as are the attractions of Palermo, they will hardly avail to detain the visitor
during the rest of his stay in Sicily. For him who wishes to see Trinacria
thoroughly, and who has already made the acquaintance of Messina and Syracuse,
of Catania and Girgenti, the capital forms the most convenient of head-quarters
from which to visit whatever places of interest remain to be seen in the western
and south-western corner of the island. For it is hence that, in the natural order
of things, he would start for Marsala (famous as the landing-place of " the
Thousand," under Garibaldi, in 1860, and the commencement of that memorable
march which ended in a few weeks in the overthrow of the Bourbon rule) and
Trapani (from drepanon), another sickle-shaped town, dear to the Virgilian student
as the site of the games instituted by Jjlneas to the memory of the aged
Anchises, who died at Eryx, a poetically appropriate spot for a lover of Aphrodite
to end his days in. The town of the goddess on the top of Monte San Giuliano,

212

////;

Mi-:i)rTi<;iiiiA NEAN.

the ancient Kryx, is fast sinking to decay. 1 Vgenerate descendants, or successors
would perhaps lx> more correct, of her ancient worshippers prefer the plain at its
foot, and year by year migrations take place thither which threaten to number
this immemorial settlement of pagan antiquity among the dead cities of the past,
and to leave its grass-grown streets and mouldering cathedral alone with the sea
and sky. There are no remains of the world-famed shrine of Venus Erycina now
save a few traces of its foundation and an ancient reservoir, once a fountain
dedicated to the goddess. One need not linger on San Giuliano longer than is

Mount Etna, and Greek Theatre, Taormina.

needful to survey the mighty maritime panorama which surrounds the spectator,
and to note Cape Bon in Africa rising faintly out of the southward haze.

For Selimmto has to be seen, and Segesta, famous both for the grandeur
and interest of their Greek remains. From Castelvetrano station, on the return
route, it is but a short eight miles to the ruins of Selinus, the westernmost of
the Hellenic settlements of Sicily, a city with a history of little more than two
centuries of active life, and of upwards of two thousand years of desolation.
I'amiinliis of Megara founded it, so says legend, in the seventh century B.C. In
the fifth century of that era the Carthaginians destroyed it. Ever since that day it
IKIS remained deserted except as a hiding-place for the early Christians in the days of
their persecution, and as a stronghold of the Mohammedans in their resistance to King
Yet in its short life of some two hundred and twenty years it became, for

. 2 \[ Till: I'K'TI'lfl'SQUE MKDITKliliANKAN.

some unknown reason of popular sanctity, the site of no fewer than seven temples,
four of them among tlie largo! ever known to have existed. Most of them survive,
it is triu-, only in the condition of prostrate fragments, for it is supposed that
earthquake and not time has been their worst foe, and the largest of them, dedicated
to Hercules, or, as some hold, to Apollo, was undoubtedly never finished at all. Its
length, including steps, reaches the extraordinary figure of three hundred and

Mty-one feet, or more than a hundred and twenty-one yards; its width, including
steps, is a hundred and seventy-seven feet; while its columns would have soared
when completed to the stupendous height of fifty-three feet. It dates from the fifth
century B.C., and it was probably the appearance of the swarthy Carthaginian
invaders which interrupted the masons at their work. It now lies a colossal
heap of mighty, prostrate, broken columns, their fiutings worn nearly smooth by
time and weather, and of plinths shaped and rounded by the same agencies into
the similitude of gigantic mountain boulders.

It is, however, the temples of Selinunto rather than their surroundings
which command admiration, and in this respect they stand in marked contrast
to that site of a single unnamed ruin, which is, perhaps, taking site and ruin
together, the most "pathetic " piece of the picturesque in all Sicily, the hill and
temple of Segesta. From Calatafimi, scene of one of the Garibaldian battles, to
Segesta the way lies along the Castellamare road, and through a beautiful and

well- watered valley. The site of the town itself is the first to be reached.

Monte Barbaro, with the ruins of the theatre, lies to the north, to the west the
hill whereon stands the famous Temple. No one needs a knowledge of Greek
archaeology or Greek history, or even a special love for Greek art, in order to
be deeply moved by the spectacle which the spot presents. He needs no more
than the capacity of Virgil's hero to be touched by " the sense of tears in mortal
things." The Temple itself is perfect, except that its columns are still initiated ;
bat it is not the simple and "majestic outline of the building, its lines of lessening
columns, or its massive architraves upborne upon those mighty shafts, which most
impress us, but the harmony between this great work of man and its natural
surroundings. In this mountain solitude, and before this deserted shrine of an
extinct worship, we are in presence of the union of two desolations, and one had
well-nigh said of two eternities, the everlasting hills and the imperishable yearnings
Of the human heart. No words can do justice to the lonely grandeur of the Temple
of Segesta. It is unlike any other in Sicily in this matter of unique position. It
has no rival temple near it, nor are there even the remains of any other building,
temple .or what not, to challenge comparison, within sight of the spectator. This
ruin stands alone in every sense, alone in point of physical isolation, alone in the
a ust (.-re pathos which that position imparts to it.

UICILY. 215

In the Museum of Palermo, to which city the explorer of these ruined sanctuaries
of art and religion may now be supposed to have returned, the interesting
metopes of Selinus will recall the recollection of that greater museum of ruins
which he just visited at Selinunto ; hut the suppressed monastery, which has
heen now turned into a Museo Nazionale, has not much else besides its Hellenic
architectural fragments to detain him. And it may be presumed, perhaps, that
the pursuit of antiquities, which may be hunted with so much greater success in
other parts of the island, is not precisely the object which leads most visitors
to Sicily to prolong their stay in this beautifully seated city. Its attraction lies,
in effect and almost wholly, in the characteristic noted in the phrase just used.
Architecturally speaking, Palermo is naught : it is branded, as has been already
said, with the banality and want of distinction of all modern Italian cities of the
second class. And, moreover, all that man has ever done for her external adornment
she can show you in a few hours ; but days and weeks would not more than
suffice for the full appreciation of all she owes to nature. Antiquities she has
none, or next to none, unless, indeed, we are prepared to include relics of the
comparatively modern Norman domination, which of course abound in her beautiful
mosaics, in that category. The silt of successive ages, and the detritus of a life
which from the earliest times has been a busy one, have irrecoverably buried
almost all vestiges of her classic past. Her true, her only, but her all-sufficient
attraction is conveyed in her ancient name. She is indeed " Panormus " ; it is as
the "all harbour city" that she fills the eye and mind and lingers in the
memory and lives anew in the imagination. When the city itself and its environs
as far as Monreale and San Martino and La Zisa have been thoroughly explored ;
when the imposing Porta Felice has been duly admired ; when the beautiful
gardens of La Flora, with its wealth of sub-tropical vegetation, has been sufficiently
promenaded on ; when La Gala, a quaint little narrow, shallow harbour, and the
busy life on its quays have been adequately studied ; then he who loves nature
better than the works of man, and prefers the true eternal to the merely
figurative " immortal," will confess to himself that Palermo has nothing fairer,
nothing more captivating, to show than that chef-d'ixiivre which the Supreme
Artificer executed in shaping those noble lines of rock in which Pellegrino descends
to the city at its foot, and in tracing that curve of coast-line upon which the
city has sprung up imder the mountain's shadow. The view of this guardian and
patron height, this tutelary rock, as one might almost fancy it, of the Sicilian
capital is from all points and at all hours beautiful. It dominates the city and
the sea alike from whatever point one contemplates it, and the bold yet soft
beauty of its contours has in every aspect a never-failing charm. The merest
lounger, the most frivolous of promenaders in Palermo, should congratulate himself

210

THE I'K WURE8QUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Palermo Harbour.

on having always before his eyes a mountain the mere sight of which may he
almost described as a " liberal education " in poetry and art. He should haunt the
Piazza Marina, however, not merely at the promenading time of day, but then

also, nay, then most of all, when the throng has begun to thin, and, as Homer
puts it, " all the ways are shadowed," at the hour of sunset. For then the
clear Mediterranean air is at its clearest, the fringing foam at its whitest, the
rich, warm background of the Conca d'Oro at its mellowest, while the bare,
volcanic-looking sides of Monte Pellegrino seem fusing into ruddy molten metal
beneath the slanting rays. Gradually, as you watch the colour die out of it,
almost as it dies out of a snow-peak at the fading of the Alpen-gluth, the shadows
begin to creep up the mountain-sides, forerunners of the night which has already
fallen upon the streets of the city, and through which its lights are beginning to
peer. A little longer, and the body of the mountain will be a dark, vague mass,
with only its cone and graceful upper ridges traced faintly against pale depths of sky.
Thus and at such an hour may one see the city, bay, and mountain at what
may be called their {esthetic or artistic best. But they charm, and with a magic
of almost equal potency, at all hours. The fascination remains unabated to the end,
and never, perhaps, is it more keenly felt by the traveller than when Palermo is
smiling her God-speed upon the parting guest, and from the deck of the steamer
which is to bear him homeward he waves his last farewell to the receding city lying
couched, the loveliest of Ocean's Nereids, in her shell of gold.

SICILY.

217

If his hour of departure be in the evening, when the rays of the westering sun
strike athwart the base of Pellegrino, and tip with fire the summits of the low-lying
houses of the seaport, and stream over and past them upon the glowing waters of the
harbour, the sight is one which will not be soon forgotten. Dimmer and dimmer
grows the beautiful city with the increasing distance and the gathering twilight. The
warm rose-tints of the noble mountain cool down into purple, and darken at
last into a heavy mass of sombre shadows ; the sea changes to that spectral silver
which overspreads it in the gloaming. It is a race between the flying steamer and

Cape Solunta.

the falling night to hide the swiftly
fading coast-line altogether from the
view ; and so close is the contest that
up to the last it leaves us doubtful
whether it be darkness or distance that
has taken it from us. But in a few
more minutes, be it from one cause
or from the other, the effacement is complete. Behind us, where Palermo lay
a while ago, there looms only a bank of ever-darkening haze, and before the bows
of our vessel the grey expanse of Mediterranean waters which lie between us and
the Bay of Naples.

H. D. TBAILL.

Torre dell'Annunziata.

NAPLES.

"VTAPLES in itself, apart from its surroundings, is not of surpassing beauty.
Its claim to be " the most beautiful city in Europe " rests solely on the
adventitious aid of situation. When the fictitious charm which distance gives is lost
by a near approach, it will be seen that the city which has inspired the poets of all
ages is little more than a huge, bustling, commonplace commercial port, not to be
compared for a moment, aesthetically speaking, with Genoa, Florence, Venice, or
many other Italian towns equally well known to the traveller. This inherent lack
is, however, more than compensated for by the unrivalled natural beauties of its
position, and of its charming environs. No town in Europe, not Palermo with its
"Golden Shell," Constantinople with its "Golden Horn," nor Genoa, the "Gem of
the Kiviera," can boast of so magnificent a situation. The traveller who approaches
Naples by sea may well be excused for any exuberance of language. As the ship
enters the Gulf, passing between the beautiful isles of Ischia and Capri, which
seem placed like twin outposts to guard the entrance of this watery paradise, the
scene is one which will not soon fade from the memory. All around stretches
the bay in its azure immensity, its sweeping curves bounded on the right by the
rocky Sorrentiue promontory, with Sorrento, Meta, and a cluster of little fishing villages
nestling in the olive-clad precipices, half hidden by orange groves and vineyards,

NAPLES. 219

and the majestic form of Monte Angelo towering above. Farther along the coast,
Vesuvius, the tutelary genius of the scene, arrests the eye, its vine-clad lower
slopes presenting a startling contrast to the dark cone of the volcano belching
out fire and smoke, a terrible earnest of the hidden powers within. On the left the
graceful undulations of the Camaldoli hills descend to the beautifully indented bay
of Pozzuoli, which looks like a miniature replica of the parent gulf with the volcano
of Monte Nuovo for its Vesuvius. Then straight before the spectator lies a white
mass like a marble quarry ; this, with a white projecting line losing itself in the
graceful curve of Vesuvius, resolves itself, as the steamer draws nearer, into Naples
and its suburbs of Portici and Torre del Greco. Beyond, in the far background,
the view is shut in by a phantom range of snowy peaks, an offshoot of the
Abruzzi Moiintains, faintly discerned in the purple haze of the horizon. All these
varied prospects unite to form a panorama which, for beauty and extent, is hardly
to be matched in Europe.

This bald and inadequate description may perhaps serve to explain one reason for
the pre-eminence among the many beautiful views in the South of Europe popularly
allowed to the Bay of Naples. One must attribute the esthetic attraction of the Bay
a good deal to the variety of beautiful and striking objects comprised in the view.
Here we have not merely a magnificent bay with noble, sweeping curves (the deeply
indented coasts of the Mediterranean boast many more extensive), but in addition we have
in this comparatively circumscribed area an unequalled combination of sea, mountain,
and island scenery. In short, the Gulf of Naples, with its islands, capes, bays, straits,
and peninsulas, is an epitome of the principal physical features of the globe, and
might well serve as an object lesson for a child making its first essay at geography.
Then, too, human interest is not lacking. The mighty city of Naples, like a huge
octopus, stretches out its feelers right and left, forming the straggling towns and
villages which lie along the eastern and western shores of the bay. A more
plausible, if prosaic, reason for the popularity of the Bay of Naples may, however, be
found in its familiarity. Naples and Vesuvius are as well known to us in prints,
photographs, or engravings as St. Paul's Cathedral or the Houses of Parliament.
If other famous bays, Palermo or Corinth, for instance, were equally well known,
that of Naples would have many rivals in popular estimation.

The traveller feels landing a terrible anticlimax. The noble prospect of the
city and the bay ha,s raised his expectations to the highest pitch, and the
disenchantment is all the greater. The sordid surroundings of the port, the worst
quarter of the city, the squalor and filth of the streets, preceded by the inevitable
warfare with the rapacious rabble of yelling boatmen, porters, and cab-drivers, make
the disillusionised visitor inclined to place a sinister interpretation on the equivocal
maxim, Vedi Napoli e j>oi mori ; and Goethe's aphorism, that a man can never

li-JI )

mi-:

r( i; i-: S v ' /

be utterly miserable who retains the recollection of Naples, seems to him the
hollowest mockery and the cruellest irony.

The streets of Naples are singularly lacking iu architectural interest. Not
only are there few historic buildings or monuments, which is curious when we
consider the important part Naples played in the medieval history of the South of
Kurope, hut there are not many handsome modern houses or palaces of any

pretension. Not that Naples is
wanting in interest. The conven-
tional sight-seer, who calls a place
interesting in proportion to the
number of pages devoted to its
principal attractions in the guide-
books, may, perhaps, contemptu-
ously dismiss this great city as a
place which can be sufficiently
well "done" in a couple of days;
but to the student of human
nature Naples offers a splendid
field in its varied and character-
istic scenes of street life. To
those who look below the surface,

this vast hive of humanity, in
which Italian life can be studied
in all its varied phases and as-
pects, cannot be wholly common-
place.

It is a truism that the life
of Naples must be seen in the
streets. The street is the Nea-
politan's bedroom, dining-room, dressing-room, club, and recreation ground. The
custom of making the streets the home is not confined to the men. The fair sex are
fond of performing al fresco toilettes, and may frequently be seen mutually assisting
each other in the dressing of their magnificent hair in full view of the passers-by.

As in Oriental cities, certain trades are usually confined to certain streets or alleys
in the poorer quarters of the town. The names at street corners show that this
custom is a long-established one. There are streets solely for cutlers, working
jewellers, second-hand bookstalls, and old clothes shops (a counterpart of our Petticoat
Lane), to name a few of the staple trades. The most curious of these trading-streets
is one not far from the Cathedral, confined to the sale of religious wares; shrines,

Street in A via! ft.

NAPLES, FROM POSILIPO

2-2-2 THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

tawdry images, cheap crucifixes, crosses, and rosaries make up the contents of these
ecclesiastical marine stores. This distinctive local character of the various arts and
crafts is now best exemplified in the Piax/a degli Orefici. This square and the
adjoining streets are confined to silversmiths and jewellers, and here the characteristic
ornaments of the South Italian peasant women can still he bought, though they tire
beginning to be replaced by the cheap, machine-made abominations of Birmingham.
Apart from the thronging crowds surging up and down, these narrow streets and
alleys are full of dramatic interest. The curious characteristic habits and customs
of the people may best be studied in the poor quarters round the Cathedral. He
who would watch this shifting and ever-changing human kaleidoscope must not,
however, expect to do it while strolling leisurely along. This would be as futile
as attempting to stem the ebb and flow of the street currents, for the streets
are narrow and the traffic abundant. A doorway will be found a convenient
harbour of refuge from the long strings of heavily laden mules and donkeys
which largely replace vehicular traffic. A common and highly picturesque object
is the huge charcoal-burner's waggon, drawn usually by three horses abreast. The
richly decorated pad of the harness is very noticeable, with its brilliant array of
gaudy brass flags and the shining repousse plates, with figures of the Madonna and
the saints, which, together with the Pagan symbols of horns and crescents, are
supposed to protect the horses from harm. Unfortunately these talismans do not

seem able to protect them from the brutality of their masters. The Neapolitan's

cruelty to animals is proverbial. This characteristic is especially noticeable on
Festas and Sundays. A Neapolitan driver apparently considers the seating capacity
of a vehicle and the carrying power of a horse to be limited only by the number of
passengers who can contrive to hang on, and with anything less than a dozen
perched on the body of the cart, two or three in the net, and a couple on the
shafts, he will think himself weakly indulgent to his steed. It is on the Castellamare
Eoad on a Festa that the" visitor will best realise the astonishing elasticity of a
Neapolitan's notions as to the powers of a beast of burden. A small pony will
often be seen doing its best to drag uphill a load of twelve or fifteen hulking
adults, incited to its utmost efforts by physical suasion in the form of sticks and
whips, and moral suasion in the shape of shrill yells and oaths. Their diabolical
din seems to give some colour to the saying that " Naples is a paradise inhabited
by devils."

The nl fresco restaurants of the streets are curious and instructive. That huge
jar of oil simmering on a charcoal fire denotes a fried-fish stall, where fish and
"oil-cakes" are retailed at one sou a portion. These stalls are much patronised by
the very poor, with whom macaroni is an almost unattainable luxury. At street
corners a snail-soup stall may often be seen, conspicuous by its polished copper pot.

NAPLES. 223

The poor consider snails a great delicacy; and iu this they are only following ancient
customs, for even in Roman times snails were in demand, if we may judge from the
number of snail-shells found among the Pompeii excavations. A picturesque feature
are the herds of goats. These ambulating dairies stream through the town in the
early morning. The intelligent beasts know their customers, and each nock has
its regular beat, which it takes of its own accord. Sometimes the goats are milked
in the streets, the pail being let down from the upper flats of the houses by a
string, a pristine type of ascenseur. Generally, though, the animal mounts the
stairs to be milked, and descends again in the most matter-of-fact manner.

The gaudily painted stalls of the iced-water and lemonade dealers give warmth
of colour to the streets. There are several grades in the calling of acquaiolo
(water-seller). The lowest member of the craft is the peripatetic acquaiolo, who
goes about furnished simply with a barrel of iced water strapped on his back, and a
basket of lemons slung to his waist, and dispenses drinks at two centesimi a
tumbler. It was thought that the completion of the Serino aqueduct, which
provides the whole of Naples with excellent water at the numerous public fountains,
would do away with the time-honoured water-seller ; but it seems that the poorer
classes cannot do without a flavouring of some sort, and so this humble fraternity
continue as a picturesque adjunct of the streets. These are only a few of the
more striking objects of interest which the observer will not fail to notice in his
walks through the city. But we must leave this fascinating occupation and turn
to some of the regulation sights of Naples. Those interested in Neapolitan street
life will find particularly graphic and accurate studies of Naples life in Mr. Neville
Rolfe's " Naples in 1888."

Though, in proportion to its size, Naples contains fewer sights and specific
objects of interest than any other city in Italy, there are still a few public buildings
and churches which the tourist should not neglect. There are quite half-a-dozen
churches out of the twenty-five or thirty noticed by the guide-books which fully
repay the trouble of visiting them. The Cathedral is not at present seen to advantage,
as it is under repair. Its chief interest lies in the gorgeous Chapel of St. Januarius,
the patron saint of Naples. In a silver shrine under the richly decorated altar is
the famous phial containing the coagulated blood of the saint. This chapel was
built at the beginning of the seventeenth century, in fulfilment of a vow by the
grateful populace in honour of the saint who had saved their city " from the fire
of Vesuvius by the intercession of his precious blood." St. Januarius is held in
the highest veneration by the lower classes of Naples, with whom the liquefaction
ceremony, which takes place twice a year, is an article of faith in which they place
the most implicit reliance. The history of the holy man is too well known to need
repetition here. The numerous miracles attributed to him and the legends which have

cc.

o
J

CQ
D

I
h

in
U

NAPLES.

225

grown round his name, would make no inconsiderable addition to the hagiological
literature of Italy.

Of the other churches, Sta. Chiara, S. Domenico Maggiore, and S. Lorenzo are
best worth visiting. In building Sta. Chiara the architect would seem to have
aimed at embodying, as far as possible, the idea of the church militant, the exterior
resembling a fortress
rather than a place
of worship. In ac-
cordance with the
notions of church re-
storation which pre-
vailed in the last
century, Giotto's fa-
mous frescoes have
been covered with a
thick coating of
whitewash, the sa-
pient official who was
responsible for the
restoration consider-
ing these paintings

too dark and gloomy for mural decoration.
Now the most noteworthy objects in the church

are the Gothic tombs of the Angevin kings.

The two churches of S. Domenico and
S. Lorenzo are not far off, and the sightseer

in this city of "magnificent distances" is grateful to the providence which
has placed the three most interesting churches in Naples within a comparatively
circumscribed area. S. Domenico should be visited next, as it contains some of the
best examples of Renaissance sculpture in Naples, as Sta. Chiara does of Gothic art.
It was much altered and repaired in the course of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, but still remains one of the handsomest of the Neapolitan churches. Its
most important monument is the marble group in relief of the Virgin, with SS.
Matthew and John, by Giovanni da Nola, which is considered to be the sculptor's
best work. The Gothic church of S. Lorenzo has fortunately escaped in part the
disfiguring hands of the seventeenth century restorer. This church is of some literary
and historical interest, Petrarch having spent several months in the adjoining
monastery; and it was here that Boccaccio saw the beautiful princess immortalised
in his tales by the name of Fiammetta.

The Hermitage, Capri.

TEE VICTl'RKHQl'E MEDITERRANEAN.

In order to appreciate the true historical and geographical significance of Naples,
\ve must reinemher that the whole of this volcanic district is one great palimpsest,
and that it is only with the uppermost aud least important inscription that we have
hitherto concerned ourselves. To form nn adequate idea of this unique country we
must set ourselves to decipher the earlier-written inscriptions. For this purpose we
must visit the National Museum, which contains rich and unique collections of
antiquities elsewhere absolutely unrepresented. Here will he found the best treasures
from the buried towns of Cumse, Herculaneum, and Pompeii. The history of nearly
a thousand years may be read in this vast necropolis of ancient art.

To many, however, the living present has a deeper interest than the buried
past, and to these the innumerable beautiful excursions round Naples will prove
more attractive than all the wealth of antiquities in the Museum. Certainly, from a
purely a>sthetic standpoint, all the best things in Naples are out of it, if the bull
may be allowed. To reach Pozzuoli and the classic district of BaiaB and Cumae,
we pass along the fine promenade of the Villa Nazionale (Naples' Hyde Park), which
stretches from the Castello dell' Ovo (the Bastille of Naples) to the Posilipo
promontory, commanding, from end to end, superb unobstructed views of the Bay.
Capri, the central point of the prospect, appears to change its form from day to day,
like a fairy island. Sometimes, on a cloudless day, the fantastic outlines of the cliffs
stand out clearly defined against the blue sea and the still bluer background of the
sky; the houses are plainly distinguished, and you can almost fancy that you can
descry the groups of idlers leaning over the parapet of the little piazza, so clear is
the atmosphere. Sometimes the island is bathed in a bluish haze, and by a curious
atmospheric effect a novel form of Fata Morgana is seen, the island appearing to
be lifted out of the water and suspended between sea and sky.

The grounds of the Villa Nazionale are extensive, and laid out with taste, but
are disfigured by inferior plaster copies, colossal in size, of famous antique statues. It
is strange that Naples, while possessing some of the greatest masterpieces of ancient
sculptors, should be satisfied with these plastic monstrosities for the adornment
of its most fashionable promenade. The most interesting feature of the Villa
Naxionale is the Aquarium. It is not merely a show place, but an international
biological station, and, in fact, the portion open to the public consists only of the
spare tanks of the laboratory. This institution is the most important of its kind
in Europe, and is supported by the principal European Universities, who each pay for
so many "tables." England is at present represented by two marine biologists.

At the entrance to the tunnelled highway known as the Grotto di Posilipo,
which burrows through the promontory that forms the western bulwark of Naples, and
serves as !t barrier to shut out the noise of that overgrown city, is a columbarium
known as Virgil's Tomb. The guide-books, with their superior erudition, speak

NAPLES. 227

rather contemptuously of this historic spot as the "so-called tomb of Virgil." Yet
historical evidence seems to point to the truth of the tradition which has assigned
this spot as the place where Virgil's ashes were once placed. A visit to this tomh
is a suitable introduction to the neighbourhood of which Virgil seems to be the
tutelary genius. Along the sunny slopes of Posilipo the poet doubtless occasionally
wended his way to the villa of Lucullus, at the extreme end of the peninsula.
Leaving the gloomy grotto, the short cut to Pozzuoli, on our right, we begin to
mount the far-famed " Corniche " of Posilipo, .which skirts the cliffs of the
promontory. The road at first passes the fashionable Mergellina suburb, fringed by
an almost uninterrupted series of villa gardens. This is, perhaps, one of the most
beautiful drives in the South of Europe. Every winding discloses views which are
at once the despair and the delight of the painter. At every turn we are tempted
to stop and feast the eyes on the glorious prospect. Perhaps of all the fine views
in and around Naples, that from the Capo di Posilipo is the most striking, and
dwells longest in the memory. At one's feet lies Naples, its whitewashed houses
glittering bright in the flood of sunshine. Beyond, across the deep blue waters of
the gulf, Vesuvius, the evil genius of this smiling country, arrests the eye, from
whose summit, like a halo,

" A wreath of light blue vapour, pure and rare,

Mounts, scarcely seen against the deep blue sky
#***

It forms, dissolving there,
The dome, as of a palace, hung on high
Over the mountains."

Portici, Torre del Greco, and Torre dell' Annunziata can hardly be distinguished
in this densely populated fringe of coast-line, which extends from Naples to
Castellamare. Sometimes at sunset we have a magnificent effect. This sea-wall
of continuous towns and villages lights up under the dying rays of the sun like
glowing charcoal. The conflagration appears to spread to Naples, and the huge city
is "lit up like Sodom, as if fired by some superhuman agency." This atmospheric
phenomenon may remind the imaginative spectator of the dread possibilities afforded
by the proximity of the ever-threatening volcano towering in terrorem over the
thickly populated plain. There is a certain weird charm, born of impending danger,
which gives the whole district a pre-eminence in the world of imagination. It has
passed through its baptism of fire; and who knows how soon "the dim things
below " may be preparing a similar fate for a city so rashly situated ? These dismal
reflections are, however, out of place on the peaceful slopes of Posilipo, whose very
name denotes freedom from care (TTBVO-K rij? XVTT???).

The shores of this promontory are thickly strewed with Eoman ruins, which
are seldom explored owing to their comparative inaccessibility. Most of the

228

THE I'K 'TURESQUE MKDITKIiUA \'KAN.

Capri, from Naples.

remains, theatres, temples,
porticoes, and otlier buildings,

whose use or nature defies the

learning of the antiquary, are

thought to he connected with the

extensive villa of the notorious

epicure Vedius Polio. Traces of

the fish-tanks for the eels, which

Seneca tells us were fed with the flesh of disobedient slaves, are still visible.

Descending the winding gradients of Posilipo, we get the first glimpse of the lovely

little Bay of Pozzuoli. The view is curious and striking. Bo deeply and sharply

indented is the coast, and so narrow and tortuous are the channels that separate

the islands Ischia, Procida, and Nisida, that it is difficult to distinguish the mainland.

We enjoy a unique panorama of land and sea, islands, bays, straits, capes, and

peninsulas all inextricably intermingled.

Continuing our journey past the picturesque town of Pozzuoli, its semi-oriental
looking houses clustered together on a rocky headland, like Monaco, we reach
the hallowed ground of the classical student. No one who has read his Virgil
or his Horace at school can help being struck by the constant succession of once
familiar names scattered so thickly among the dry bones of the guide-books.
The district between Cunuc and Pozzuoli is the sanction sniictonim of classical
Italy, and " there is scarcely a spot winch is not identified with the poetical
mythology of Greece, or associated with some name familiar in the history of
Home." Leaving Pozzuoli, we skirt the Phlegncan Fields, which, owing to

2
a
H

U.
O

h
U)
<

w
I

NAPLES.

229

their malaria-haunted situation, still retain something of their ancient sinister
character. This tract is, however, now being drained and cultivated a good deal.
That huge mound on our right, looking like a Celtic sepulchral barrow, is Monte
Nuovo, a volcano, as its name denotes, of recent origin. Geologically speaking,
it is a thing of yesterday, being thrown up in the great earthquake of September
30th, 1538, when, as Alexandre Dumas graphically piits it, " One morning Pozzuoli
woke up, looked around, and could not recognise its position ; where had been
the night before a lake was now a mountain." The lake referred to is Avernus,
a name familiar to all through the venerable and invariably misquoted classical
tag, facilis descemus Averni, etc. This insignificant-looking volcanic mole-hill is
the key to the physical geography of the whole district. Though the upheaval
of Monte Nuovo has altered the configuration of the country round, the depopulation
of this deserted but fertile country is due, not to the crater, but to the malaria,
the scourge of the coast. The scarcity of houses on the western horn of the
Bay of Naples is very marked, especially when contrasted with the densely
populated sea-board on the Castellamare side. Leaving Monte Nuovo we come
to a still more fertile tract of country, and the luxuriant vegetation of these
Avernine hills "radiant with vines" contrasts pleasingly with the gloomy land
" where the dusky nation of Cirnmeria dwells " of the poet. The mythological

Capri.

J.-50 TIIK PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

traditions of the beautiful plain a few miles farther on, covered with vineyards and
olive-groves and bright with waving corn-lields, where Virgil has placed the Elysian
Fields, seem far more appropriate to the landscape as we see it. Perhaps a sense of
the dramatic contrast was present in the poet's mind when he placed the Paradise
and the Inferno of the ancients so near together.

Quite apart from the charm with which ancient fable and poetry have invested
this district, the astonishing profusion of ruins makes it especially interesting
to the antiquary. A single morning's walk in the environs of Baiae or Cumae will
reveal countless fragmentary monuments of antiquities quite outside of the stock
ruins of the guide-books, which the utilitarian instincts of the country people only
partially conceal, Roman tombs serving as granaries or receptacles for garden produce,
temples affording stable-room for goats and donkeys, amphitheatres half-concealed
by olive-orchards or orange-groves, walls of ancient villas utilised in building up the
terraced vineyards ; and, in short, the trained eye of an antiquary would, in a day's
walk, detect a sufficient quantity of antique material almost to reconstruct another
Pompeii. But though every acre of this antiquary's paradise teems with relics of
the past, and though every bay and headland is crowded with memories of the
greatest names in Roman history, we must not linger in this supremely interesting
district, but must get on to the other beautiful features of the Gulf of Naples.

Capri, as viewed from Naples, is the most attractive and striking feature in the
Bay. There is a kind of fascination about this rocky island-garden which is felt
equally by the callow tourist making his first visit to Italy, and by the seasoned
traveller who knew Capri when it was the centre of an art colony as well known
as is that of Newlyn at the present day. No doubt Capri is now considered by
super-sensitive people to be as hopelessly vulgarised and hackneyed as the Isle of
Man or the Channel Isles, now that it has become the favourite picnicking ground
of shoals of Neapolitan excursionists ; but that is the fate of most of the beautiful
scenery in the South of Europe, if at all easy of access. These fastidious minds
may, however, find consolation in the thought that to the noisy excursionists,
daily carried to and from Naples by puffing little cockle-shell steamers, the greater
part of the island will always remain an undiscovered country. They may swarm
up the famous steps of Anacapri, and even penetrate into the Blue Grotto, but
they do not, as a rule, carry the spirit of geographical research farther.

The slight annoyance caused by the great crowds is amply compensated for by
the beauties of the extraordinarily grand scenery which is to be found within the
inland desecrated by memories of that " deified beast Tiberius," as Dickens calls him.
What constitutes the chief charm of the natural features of Capri are the sharp
contrasts and the astonishing variety in the scenery. Rugged precipices, in height
exceeding the cliffs of Tintagel, and in beauty and boldness of outline surpassing the

NAPLES.

crags ot the grandest Norwegian fiords, wall in a green and fertile garden-land
covered with orange-orchards, olive-groves, and corn-fields, a region as rich and
productive as the Channel Islands. Cruising round this rock-bound and apparently
inaccessible island, it seems a natural impregnable fortress, a sea-girt Gibraltar
guarding the entrance of the gulf, girdled round with precipitous crags rising a
thousand feet sheer out of the sea, the cliff outline broken by steep ravines and
rocky headlands, with outworks of crags, reefs, and Titanic masses of tumbled rocks.

These physical contrasts are strikingly paralleled in the history of the island.
This little speck on the earth's surface, now given up solely to fishing, pastoral
pursuits, and the exploitation of tourists, and as little affected by public affairs as
if it were in the midst of the Mediterranean, instead of being almost within
cannon-shot of the metropolis of South Italy, has passed through many vicissitudes,
conquered in turn by Phoenicians, Greeks, and liomans ; under Koine little known
and used merely as a lighthouse station for the benefit of the corn-galleys plying
from Sicily to Naples, till the old Emperor Augustus took a fancy to it, and used it
as a sanatorium for his declining years. Some years later we find this isolated
rock in the occupation of the infamous Tiberius, as the seat of government from
which he ruled the destinies of the whole empire. Then, to run rapidly through

Anacapri.

232

TIII-:

MEDITERRANEAN.

ra eceeding centimes, we find Capri, after the fall of Rome, sharing in the fortunes
. llul lllisi - Ml , ul: . Naples, and Losing all historic individuality till the beginning c

th present century, when the Neapolitan Gibraltar became a political shuttlecock,
,, ftbou1 m fan, between Naples, England, and France; and now it complacently
accepts the destiny Nature evidently marked out for it, and has become

sanatorium of Naples, and
the Mecca of artists and
'lovers of the picturesque.

One cannot he many
hours in Capri without
being reminded of its tute-
lary genius Tiberius. In
fact, as Mr. A. J. Symonds
has forcibly expressed it,
"the hoof -print of illus-
trious crime is stamped
upon the island." All the
religio loci, if such a phrase
is permissible in connection
with Tiberius, seems centred
in this unsavoury person-

ality. We cannot get away
from him. His palaces and
villas seem to occupy every
prominent point in the
island. Even the treasure-
trove of the antiquary bears
undying witness to his vices,
and shows that Suetonius,
in spite of recent attempts
to whitewash the Emperor's
memory, did not trust to

mere legends and fables for his biography. Even the most ardent students of
Roman history would surely be glad to be rid of this forbidding spectre that
forces itself so persistently on their attention. To judge by the way in which the
simple Caprioles seek to perpetuate the name of their illustrious patron, one might
almost suppose that the Emperor, whose name is proverbial as a personification
of crime and vice, had gone through some process akin to canonisation.

Capri, though still famous for beautiful women, whose classic features, statuesque

Vietri.

NAPLES.

233

forms, and graceful carriage, recall the Helens and the Aphrodites of the Capitol
and Vatican, and seem to invite transfer to the painter's canvas, can no longer he
called the " artist's paradise." The pristine simplicity of these Grecian-featured
daughters of the island, which made them invaluable as models, is now to a
great extent lost. The march of civilisation has imhued them with the
commercial instinct, and they now fully appreciate their artistic value. No
casual haphazard sketches of a picturesque group of peasant girls, pleased to be

Salerno.

of service to a stranger, no impromptu portraiture of a little Capriote fisher-boy,
is now possible. It has become a "sitting" for a consideration, just as if it took place
in an ordinary Paris atelier or a Kome studio. The idea, for which we as a nation
of globe-trotters are most responsible, that the tourist is a gift of Providence, sent
for their especial benefit, to be looked at in the same light as are the " kindly fruits
of the earth," recalls to oi;r mind the quaint old Indian myth of Mondamin, the
beautiful stranger, with his garments green and yellow, from whose dead body
sprang up the small green feathers, afterwards to be known as maize. However, the
Capriotes turn their visitors to better account than that ; in fact, their eminently
practical notions on the point appear to gain ground in this once unsophisticated
country, while the recognised methods of agriculture remain almost stationary.

234 Till-: PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

The appearance of a visitor armed with sketch-book or camera is now the signal
for every male and female Capriole within range to pose in forced and would-be
graceful attitudes, or to arrange themselves in unnatural conventional groups: aged
crones sprout, up, as if by magic, on every doorstep; male loungers "lean airily on
posts"; while at all points of the compass bashful maidens hover around, each
balancing on her head the indispensable water-jar. These vulgarising tendencies
explain why it is that painters are now beginning to desert Capri.

But we are forgetting the great boast of Capri, the Blue Grotto. Everyone
has heard of this famous cave, the beauties of which have been described by Mr.
A. J. Symonds in the following graphic and glowing picture in prose : Entering the
crevice-like portal, " you find yourself transported to a world of wavering, subaqueous
sheen. The grotto is domed in many chambers ; and the water is so clear that you
can see the bottom, silvery, with black-finned fishes diapered upon the blue-white sand.
The flesh of a diver in this water showed like the face of children playing at snap-
dragon ; all around him the spray leaped up with living fire ; and when the oars
struck the surface, it was as though a phosphorescent sea had been smitten, and the
drops ran from the blades in blue pearls." It must, however, be remembered that
these marvels can only be perfectly seen on a clear and sunny day, and when, too,
the sun is high in the sky. Given these favourable conditions, the least impressionable
must feel the magic of the scene, and enjoy the shifting brilliancy of light and

colour. The spectators seem bathed in liquid sapphire, and the sensation of being

i
enclosed in a gem is strange indeed. But* we certainly shall not experience any

such sensation if we explore this lovely grotto in the company of the noisy and
excited tourists who daily arrive in shoals by the Naples steamer. To appreciate
its beauties the cave must be visited alone and at leisure.

Those who complain of the village of Capri being so sadly modernised and
tourist-ridden will find at Anacapri some of that Arcadian simplicity they are
seeking, for the destroying (aesthetically speaking) fingers of progress and civilisation
have hardly touched this secluded mountain village, though scarcely an hour's walk
from the " capital " of the island.

\\ e will, of course, take the famous steps, and ignore the excellently engineered
high-road that winds round the cliffs, green with arbutus and myrtle, in serpentine
gradients, looking from the heights above mere loops of white ribbon. Anacapri
is delightfully situated in a richly cultivated table-land, at the foot of Monte Solaro.
Climbing the slopes of the mountain, we soon reach the Hermitage, where we have a
fine bird's-eye view of the island, with Anacapri spread out at our feet, and the
town of Capri clinging to the hillsides on our right. But a far grander view
rewards our final climb to the summit. We can see clearly outlined every beautiful
feature of the Bay of Naples, with its magnificent coast-line from Misenum to Sorrento

NAPLES. 235

in prominent relief almost at our feet, and raising our eyes landwards we can see the

Campanian Plain till it is merged in the purple haze of the Apennines. To the

south the broad expanse of water stretches away to the far horizon, and to the
right this incomparable prospect is hounded by that " enchanted laud " where

" Sweeps the blue Sulernian bay,
With its sickle of white sand,"

and on a very clear day we can faintly discern a purple, jagged outline, which
shows where " Paestum and its ruins lie."

In spite of the undeniable beauties of Capri, it seems so given up to artists
and amateur photographers that it is a relief to get away to a district not quite so
well known. We have left to the last, as a fitting climax, the most beautiful bit
of country, not only in the neighbourhood of Naples, but in the whole of South
Italy. The coast-road from Castellamare to Sorrento, Positano, and .Amalri offers
a delightful alternation and combination of the softest idyllic scenery with the
wildest and most magnificent mountain and crag landscape. In fact, it is necessary
to exercise some self-restraint in language and to curb a temptation to rhapsodise
when describing this beautiful region. The drive from Naples to Castellamare is
almost one continuous suburb, and change from this monotonous succession of
streets of commonplace houses to the beautiful country we reach soon after leaving
the volcanic district at Castellamare is very marked. In the course of our journey
we cannot help noticing the bright yellow patches of colour on the beach and
the flat house-tops. This is the wheat used for the manufacture of macaroni,
of which Torre dell' Aununziata is the great centre. All along the road the
houses, too, have their loggias and balconies festooned with the strips of finished
macaroni spread out to dry. All this lights up the dismal prospect of apparently
never-ending buildings, and gives a literally local colour to the district. There
is not much to delay the traveller in Castellamare, and soon after leaving the
overcrowded and rather evil-smelling town we enter upon the beautiful coast-road
to Sorrento. For the first few miles the road runs near the shore, sometimes almost
overhanging the sea. We soon get a view of Vico, picturesquely situated on a
rocky eminence, and familiar to us from Stanfield's painting. The scenery gets
bolder as we climb the Punta di Scutola. From this promontory we get the first
glimpse of the beautiful Piano di Sorrento. It looks like one vast garden, so
thickly is it covered with vineyards, olive groves, and orange and lemon orchards,
with an occasional aloe and palm tree to give an Oriental touch to the landscape.
The bird's-eye view from the promontory gives the spectator a general impression
of a carpet, in which the prevailing tones of colour are the richest greens
and gold. Descending to this fertile plateau, we find a delightful blending of

236

y///-; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

the Sterner elements of the picturesque with the pastoral ami idyllic. The plain
b intersected with romantic, craggy ravines and precipitous, tortuous gorges,
mb ling the ancient stone quarries of Syracuse, their ragged sides covered with
olives, wild vines, aloes, and Indian figs. The road to Amalfi here leaves the sea
and is carried through the heart of this rich and fertile region, and about three
n ,il,. s from Sorrento it begins to climb the little mountain range which separates
tin; Sorrento plain from the Bay of Salerno.

Castellamare.

We can hardly, however, leave the level little town, consecrated to memories
of Tasso, unvisited. Its flowers and its gardens, next to its picturesque situation,
constitute the great charm of Sorrento. It seems a kind of garden-picture, its
peaceful and smiling aspect contrasting strangely with its bold and stern situation.
Cut off, a natural fortress, from the rest of the peninsula by precipitous gorges, like
Constantine in Algeria, while its sea-front consists of a precipice descending sheer
to the water's edge, no wonder that it invites comparison with such dissimilar towns
as Grasse, Monaco, Amalfi, Constantine, and even with our own Ilfracombe and
Torquay, according to the aspect which first strikes the visitor. After seeing Sorrento,
with its astonishing wealth of flowers, the garden walls overflowing with cataracts of
roses, and the scent of acacias, orange and lemon flowers pervading everything, we
begin to think that, in comparing the outlying plain of Sorrento to a flower-garden,
we have been too precipitate. Compared with Sorrento itself, the plain is but a

PROCIDA AND ISCH1A.

238

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

great orchard or market-garden. Sorrento is the real flower-garden, a miniature

?, " the village of flowers and the flower of villages."

We leave Sorrento and its gardens and continue our excursion to Amain

and Salerno. After
reaching the point
at the summit
of the Colline del
Piano, whence we
get our first view
of the famous
Isles of the Syrens,
looking far more
picturesque than
inviting, witli their
sharp, jagged out-
line, we come in
sight of a magni-
ficent stretch of
cliff and mountain
scenery. The
limestone preci-
pices extend un-
interruptedly for
miles, their out-
line broken by a
series of stupend-
ous pinnacles, tur-
rets, obelisks, and
pyramids cutting
sharply into the
blue sky-line. The
scenery, though
so wild and bold,
is not bleak and
dismal. The bases

of these towering precipices are covered with a wild tangle of myrtle, arbutus,

and tamarisk, and wild vines and prickly pears have taken root in the ledges
The ravines and gorges which relieve the uniformity of this great

sea-wall of cliff have their lower slopes covered with terraced and trellised

Sorrento.

NAPLES. 239

orchards of lemons and oranges, an irregular mass of green and gold. Positano,
after Amain, is certainly the most picturesque place on these shores, and, heing
less known, and consequently not so much reproduced in idealised sketches and
"touched up" photographs as Amain, its first view must come upon the traveller
rather as a delightful surprise. Its situation is curious. The town is built along
each side of a huge ravine, cut off from access landwards by an immense wall of
precipices. The houses climb the craggy slopes in an irregular amphitheatre, at
every variety of elevation and level, and the views from the heights above give a
general effect of a cataract of houses having been poured down each side of the gorge.
After a few miles of the grandest cliff and mountain scenery we reach the Capo
di Conca, which juts out into the bay, dividing it into two crescents. Looking w r est,
we see a broad stretch of mountainous country, where

" . . . . . A few white villages
Scattered above, below, some in the clouds,
Some on the margins of the dark blue sen,
And glittering through their lemon groves, announce
The region of Amain."

To attempt to describe Amain seems a hopeless task. The churches, towers,
and arcaded houses, scattered about in picturesque confusion on each side of the
gigantic gorge which cleaves the precipitous mountain, gay with the rich colouring
of Italian domestic architecture, make up an indescribably picturesque medley of
loggias, arcades, balconies, domes, and cupolas, relieved by flat, whitewashed roofs.
The play of colour produced by the dazzling glare of the sun and the azure
amplitude of sea and sky gives that general effect of light, colour, sunshine, and
warmth of atmosphere which is so hard to portray, either with the brush or the pen.
Every nook of this charming little rock-bound Eden affords tempting material for
the artist, and the whole region is rich in scenes suggestive of poetical ideas.

When we look at the isolated position of this once famous city, shut off from
the rest of Italy by a bulwark of precipices, in places so overhanging the town that
they seem to dispute its possession witli the tideless sea which washes the walls of
the houses, it is not easy to realise that it was recognised in mediaeval times as the
first naval Power in Europe, owning factories and trading establishments in all the
chief cities of the Levant, and producing a code of maritime laws whose leading
principles have been incorporated in modern international law. No traces remain of
the city's ancient grandeur, and the visitor is tempted to look upon the history of
its former greatness as purely legendary.

The road to Salerno is picturesque, but not so striking as that between Positano
and Amain. It is not so daringly engineered, and the scenery is tamer. Vietri
is the most interesting stopping-place. It is beautifully situated at the entrance to

240

'////: /'/<

the gorge-like valley which leads to what has been called the "Italian Switzerland,"
and is surrounded on all sides by lemon and orange orchards. Salerno will not

probably detain the visitor
long, and, in fact, the
town is chiefly known to
English travellers as the
starting-place for the fa-
mous ruins of Paestum.

These temples, after
those of Athens, are the
best preserved, and cer-
tainly the most accessible,
of any Greek ruins in
Europe, and are a lasting
witness to the splendour of
the ancient Greek colony of
Poseidonia (Paestum). "Non
cuivis Jtomini coniinnit nil ire
CoriiitJiiun," says the poet,

and certainly a visit to these beautiful ruins
will make one less regret the inability to
visit the Athenian Parthenon. Though the
situation of the Passtum Temple lacks the
picturesque irregularity of the Acropolis, and
the Temple of Girgenti in Sicily, these ruins
will probably impress the imaginative spectator
more. Their isolated and desolate position in
the midst of this wild and abandoned plain,
without a vestige of any building near, suggest
an almost supernatural origin, and give a weird
touch to this scene of lonely and majestic
grandeur. There seems a dramatic contrast in
y ico . bringing to an end at the solemn Temples of

Paestum our excursion in and around Naples.

\\e iM'giin with the noise, bustle, and teeming life of a great nineteenth-century
ity, and we have gone back some twenty-five centuries to the long-buried glory of
Greek civilisation.

EUSTACE A. K. BALL.

THE NORTHERN ADRIATIC

QO long as Venice is unvisitecl a new sensation is among the possibilities of life.

There is no town like it in Europe. Amsterdam has its canals, but Venice

is all canals ; Genoa has its palaces, but in Venice they are more numerous and

more beautiful. Its situation is uniqiie,
on a group of islands in the calm
lagoon. But the Venice of to-day is
not the Venice of thirty years ago.
Even then a little of the old romance
had gone, for a long railway viaduct
had linked it to the mainland. In
earlier days it could be reached only
by a boat, for a couple of miles of
salt water lay between the city and the
marshy border of the Paduan delta.
Now Venice is still more changed, and
for the worse. The people seem more
poverty-stricken and pauperised. Its
buildings generally, especially the or-
dinary houses, look more dingy and
dilapidated. The paint seems more
chipped, the plaster more peeled, the
brickwork more rotten ; everything
seems to tell of decadence, commercial
and moral, rather than of regeneration.
In the case of the more important
structures, indeed, the effects of time
have often been more than repaired.

Here a restoration, not seldom needless and ill-judged, has marred some venerable relic of
olden days with crude patches of colour, due to modern reproductions of the ancient and
original work : the building has suffered, as it must be admitted not a few of our
own most precious heirlooms have suffered, from the results of zeal untempered by
discretion, and the destroyer has worked his will under the guise of the restorer.
We, however, in England cannot even now cast a stone at the architects of Italy, and
our revilings at the " translation " of the Fondaco dei Turchi must be checked when
we remember what has been done during the last few years at the Abbey of St. Alban's.

The P/'a:;cila, Venice.

////,- PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

The mosquito flourishes still in Venice as it did of yore. it would be too much
to expect that the winged representative of the genus should thrive less in
Italian freedom than under Austrian bondage, but something might have been done
to extirpate the two-legged species. He is present in force in most towns south of
the Alps, hut he is nowhere so abundant or so exasperating as in Venice. If there
is one place in one town in Europe where the visitor might fairly desire to possess
his soul in peace and to gaze in thoughtful wonder, it is in the great piazza, in
front of the fasade, strange and beautiful as a dream, of the duomo of St.
Mark. Halt there and try to feast on its marvels, to worship in silence and in
peace. Vain illusion. There is no crowd of hurrying vehicles or throng of hurrying
men to interfere of necessity with your visions (there are often more pigeons than
people in the piazza), but up crawls a beggar, in garments vermin-haunted, whining
for "charity"; down swoop would-be guides, volunteering useless suggestions in
broken and barely intelligible English ; from this side and from that throng vendors
of rubbish, shell-ornaments, lace, paltry trinkets, and long ribands of photographic
" souvenirs," appalling in their ugliness. He who can stand five minutes before
San Marco and retain a catholic love of mankind must indeed be blessed with a
temper of much more than average amiability.

The death of Rome was indirectly the birth of Venice. Here in the great days
of the Empire there was not, so far as we know, even a village. Invaders came,

the Adriatic littoral was wrecked ; its salvage is to be found among the islands

i
of the lagoons. Aquileia went up in flames, the cities of the Paduan delta trembled

before the hordes of savage Huns, but the islands of its coast held out a hope
of safety. What in those days these camps of refuge must have been can be inferred
from the islands which now border the mainland, low, marshy, overgrown by thickets,
and fringed by reeds ; they were unhealthy, but only accessible by intricate and
difficult channels, and with little to tempt the spoiler. It was better to risk fever in
the lagoons than to be murdered or driven off into slavery on the mainland. It was
some time before Venice took the lead among these scattered settlements. It
became the centre of government in the year 810, but it was well-nigh two
centuries before the Venetian State attained to any real eminence. Towards this,
the first and perhaps the most important step was crushing the Istrian and
Dalmatian pirates. This enabled the Republic to become a great "Adriatic and
Oriental Company," and to get into their hands the carrying trade to the East.
The men of Venice were both brave and shrewd, something like our Elizabethan
forefathers, mighty on sea and land, but men of understanding also in the arts of
peace. She did battle with Genoa for commercial supremacy, with the Turk for
existence. She was too strong for the former, but the hitter at last wore her out,
and Lepsuito was one of her latest and least fruitful triumphs. Still, it was not

THE NORTHERN ADRIATIC. 243

till the end of the sixteenth century that a watchful eye could detect the symptoms
of senile decay. Then Venice tottered gradually to its grave. Its slow disintegration
occupied more than a century and a half; but the French Revolution indirectly
caused the collapse of Venice, for its last doge abdicated, and the city was
occupied by Napoleon in 1797. After his downfall Venetia was handed over to
Austria, and found in the Hapsburg a harsh and unsympathetic master. It made a
vain struggle for freedom in 1848, but was at last ceded to Italy after the
Austro-Prussian war in 1866.

The city is built upon a group of islands ; its houses are founded on piles, for
there is no really solid ground. How far the present canals correspond with the
original channels between small islands, how far they are artificial, it is difficult to
say ; but whether the original islets were few or many, there can be no doubt that
they were formerly divided by the largest, or the Grand Canal, the Rio Alto or Deep
Stream. This takes an S-like course, and parts the city roughly into two halves.
The side canals, which are very numerous, for the town is said to occupy one
hundred and fourteen islands, are seldom wider, often rather narrower than a
by-street in the City of London. In Venice, as has often been remarked, not a
cart or a carriage, not even a coster's donkey-cart, can be used. Streets enough
there are, but they are narrow and twisting, very like the courts in the heart of
London. The carriage, the cab, and the omnibus are replaced by the gondolas.
These it is needless to describe, for who does not know them ? One consequence
of this substitution of canals for streets is that the youthful Venetian takes to the
water like a young duck to a pond, and does not stand much on ceremony in the
matter of taking off his clothes. Turn into a side canal on a summer's day, and
one may see the younger members of a family all bathing from their own doorstep,
the smallest one, perhaps, to prevent accidents, being tied by a cord to a convenient
ring ; nay, sometimes as we are wandering through one of the narrow calle (alleys)
we hear a soft patter of feet, something damp brushes past, and a little Venetian
lad, lithe and black-eyed, bare-legged, bare-backed, and all but bare-breeched, shoots
past as he makes a short cut to his clothes across a block of buildings, round which
he cannot yet manage to swim.

In such a city as Venice it is hard to praise one view above another. There
is the noble sweep of the Grand Canal, with its palaces; there are many 'groups of
buildings on a less imposing scale, but yet more picturesque, on the smaller canals,
often almost every turn brings some fresh surprise ; but there are two views
which always rise up in my mind before all others whenever my thoughts turn to
Venice, more especially as it used to be. One is the view of the faQade of San
Marco from the Piazza. I shall make no apology for quoting words which describe
more perfectly than my powers permit the impressions awakened by this dream-like

244

THE PICTURESQUE

architectural conception. ''Beyond
those troops of ordered arches
there rises a vision out of the
earth, and all the great square
seems to have opened from it in
a kind of awe, that we may see
it far away : a multitude of pillars
and white domes clustered into a
long, low pyramid of coloured light,
a treasure-heap, as it seems, partly
of gold and partly of opal and
mother-of-pearl, hollowed beneath
into five great vaulted porches,
ceiled with fair mosaic and beset
with sculptures of alabaster, clear-
as amber and delicate as ivory;
sculpture fantastic and involved, of
palm-leaves and lilies, and grapes
and pomegranates, and birds cling-
ing and fluttering among the
branches, all twined together into
an endless network of buds and
plumes, and, in the midst of it,
the solemn forms of angels, scep-
tred and robed to the feet, and
leaning to each other across the
gates, their features indistinct
among the gleaming of the golden
ground through the leaves beside
them, interrupted and dim, like the
morning light as it faded back
among the branches of Eden when
first its gates were angel-guarded
long ago. And round the walls
of the porches there are set pillars
of variegated stones, jasper and
porphyry, and deep-green serpen-
tine, spotted with flakes of snow,
and marbles that half refuse and

Id
h
(0

THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

half yield to the sunshine, Cleopatra-like, ' their bluest veins to kiss,' the shadow as
it steals back from them revealing line after line of azure undulation, as a receding
tide leaves the waved sand : their capitals rich with interwoven tracery, rooted knots
of herbage, and drifting leaves of acanthus and vine, and mystical signs all
beginning and ending in the Cross : and above them in the broad archivolts a
continuous chain of language and of life, angels and the signs of heaven and the
labours of men, each in its appointed season upon the earth ; and above them another
range of glittering pinnacles, mixed with white arches edged with scarlet flowers, a
confusion of delight, among which the breasts of the Greek horses are seen blazing
in their breadth of golden strength, and the St. Mark's lion, lifted on a blue field
covered with stars, until at last, as if in ecstasy, the crests of the arches break into
a marble foam, and toss themselves far into the blue sky in flashes and wreaths
of sculptured spray, as if the breakers on the Lido shore had been frost-bound before
they fell, and the sea-nymphs had inlaid them with coral and amethyst."*

This is San Marco as it was. Eight centuries had harmed it little ; they had
but touched the building with a gentle hand and had mellowed its tints into tender
harmony; now its new masters, cruel in their kindness, have restored the mosaics
and scraped the marbles ; now raw blotches and patches of crude colour glare out
in violent contrast with those parts which, owing to the intricacy of the carved
work, or some other reason, it has been found impossible to touch. To look at
St. Mark's now is like listening to some symphony by a master of harmony which is
played on instruments all out of tune.

Photographs, pictures, illustrations of all kinds, have made St. Mark's so familiar
to all the world that it is needless to attempt to give any description of its
details. It may suffice to say that the cathedral stands on the site of a smaller
and older building, in which the relics of St. Mark, the tutelary saint of Venice,
had been already enshrined. The present structure was begun about the year 976,
and occupied very nearly a c'entury in building. But it is adorned with the spoils
of many a classic structure: with columns and slabs of marble and of porphyry
and of serpentine, which were hewn from quarries in Greece and Syria, in Egypt and
Libya, by the hands of Roman slaves, and decked the palaces and the baths, the
temples and the theatres of Roman cities.

The inside of St. Mark's is not less strange and impressive, but hardly so
attractive as the exterior. It is plain in outline and almost heavy in design, a
Greek cross in plan, with a vaulted dome above the centre and each arm. Much
as the exterior of St. Mark's owes to marble, porphyry, and mosaic, it would be
beautiful if constructed only of grey limestone. This could hardly be said of the
interior : take away the choice stones from columns and dado and pavement, strip

* Ruskiu, " Stones of Venice."

THE NORTHERN ADRIATIC. 247

away the crust of mosaic, those richly rohed figures on ground of gold, from wall and
from vault (for the whole interior is veneered with marbles or mosaics), and only a
rather dark, massive building would remain, which would seem rather lower and
rather smaller than one had been led to expect.

The other view in Venice which seems to combine best its peculiar character
with its picturesque beauty may be obtained at a very short distance from St.
Mark's. Leave the facade of which we have just spoken, the three great masts,
with their richly ornamented sockets of bronze, from which, in the proud days of
Venice, floated the banners of Candia, Cyprus, and the Morea ; turn from the
Piazza into the Piazzetta ; leave on the one hand the huge Campanile, more huge
than beautiful (if one may venture to whisper a criticism), on the other the
sumptuous portico of the Ducal Palace ; pass on beneath the imposing facade of
the palace itself, with its grand colonnade ; on between the famous columns,
brought more than seven centuries since from some Syrian ruins, which bear the
lion of St. Mark and the statue of St. Theodore, the other patron of the Republic;
and then, standing on the Molo at the head of the Riva degli Schiavoni, look
around ; or better still, step down into one of the gondolas which are in waiting
at the steps, and push off a few dozen yards from the land: then look back on
the facade of the Palace and the Bridge of Sighs, along the busy quays of the
Riva, towards the green trees of the Giardini Publici, look up the Piazzetta, between
the twin columns, to the glimpses of St. Mark's and the towering height of the
Campanile, along the fa9ade of the Royal Palace, with the fringe of shrubbery below
contrasting pleasantly with all these masses of masonry, up the broad entrance to
the Grand Canal, between its rows of palaces, across it to the great dome of Santa
Maria della Salute and the Dogana della Mare, with its statue of Fortune
(appropriate to the past rather than to the present) gazing out from its seaward
angle. Beyond this, yet farther away, lies the Tsola San Giorgio, a group of plain
buildings only, a church, with a dome simple in outline and a brick campanile
almost without adornment, yet the one thing in Venice, after the great group of St.
Mark's and the Palace of the Dukes, which impresses itself on the rnind. From
this point of view Venice rises before our eyes in its grandeur and in its simplicity,
in its patrician and its plebeian aspects, as " a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, throned
on her hundred isles .... a ruler of the waters and their powers."

But to leave Venice without a visit to the Grand Canal would be to leave
the city with half the tale untold. Its great historic memories are gathered around
the Piazza of St. Mark ; this is a silent witness to its triumphs in peace and in
war, to the deeds, noble and brave, of its rulers. But the Grand Canal is the
centre of its life, commercial and domestic ; it leads from its quays to its Exchange,
from the Riva degli Schiavoni and the Dogana della Mare to the Rialto. It is

THI:

/ /,/: .s

vy-; /,'/'. i .Y/-,M A'.

I htoniQ, JMnrano,

bordered by tbe palaces of the great historic families who were the rulers and
princes of Venice, who made the State by their bravery and prudence, who destroyed
it by their jealousies and self-seeking. The Grand Canal is a genealogy of Venice,
illustrated and engraved on stone. As one glides along in a gondola, century after
century in the history of domestic architecture, from the twelfth to the eighteenth,
slowly unrolls itself before' us. There are palaces which still remain much as
they were of old, but here and there some modern structure, tasteless and ugly,
has elbowed for itself a place among them ; not a few, also, have been converted
into places of business, and are emblazoned with prominent placards proclaiming
the trade of their new masters, worthy representatives of an age that is not ashamed
to daub the cliffs of the St. Gothard with the advertisements of hotels and
to paint its boulders for the benefit of vendors of chocolate !

I'.ut in the present era one must, be thankful for anything that is spared by
-reed of wealth and the vulgarity of a "democracy." .Much of old Venice still
remains, though little steamers splutter up and down the Grand Canal, and ugly
irn bri.lg.-s span its waters, both, it must be admitted, convenient, though hideous;
still the gondolas survive; still one hears at every corner the boatman's strange

THE NORTHERN ADRIATIC.

249

cry of warning, sometimes the only sound except the knock of the oar that
breaks the silence of the liquid street. Every turn reveals something quaint and
old-world. Now it is a market-boat, with its wicker panniers hanging outside,
loaded with fish or piled with vegetables from one of the more distant islets ; now
some little bridge, now some choice architectural fragment, a doorway, a turret, an
oriel, or a row of richly ornate windows, now a tiny piazzetta leading up to the
facade and campanile of a more than half-hidden church ; now the marble enclosure
of a well. Still the water-carriers go about with buckets of hammered copper hung
at each end of a curved pole ; still, though more rarely, some quaint costume may
be seen in the calle ; still the dark shops in the narrow passages are full of
goods strange to an English eye, and bright in their season with the flowers and
fruits of an Italian summer ; still the purple pigeons gather in scores at the wonted
hour to be fed on the Piazza of St. Mark, and, fearless of danger, convert the
distributor of a pennyworth of maize into a walking dovecot.

Still Venice is delightful to the eyes (unhappily not always so to the nose in
many a nook and corner) notwithstanding the pressure of poverty and the wantonness
of restorers. Perchance it may revive and yet see better days (its commerce is said
to have increased since 1866) ; but if so unless a change comes over the spirit of

Diioino and Sta. Fosca, Torccllo.

2oO THK PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

the age, tlic result will he the more complete destruction of all that made its
(harm and its wonder; so this notice may appropriately he closed by a brief sketch
of one scene which seems in harmony with the memories of its departed greatness,
a Venetian funeral. The dead no longer rest among the living beneath the pavement
of the churches: the gondola takes the Venetian "about the streets" to the daily
business of life ; it bears him away from his home to the island cemetery. From
some narrow alley, muffled by the enclosing masonry, comes the sound of a funeral
march ; a procession emerges on to the piazzetta by the water-side ; the coffin is
carried by long-veiled acolytes and mourners with lighted torches, accompanied
by a brass band with clanging cymbals. A large gondola, ornamented with
black and silver, is in waiting at the nearest landing place ; the band and most
of the attendants halt by the water-side ; the coffin is placed in the boat, the torches
are extinguished; a wilder wail of melancholy music, a more resonant clang of
the cymbals, sounds the last farewell to home and its pleasures and its work ;
the oars are dipped in the water, and another child of Venice is taken from the city
of the living to the city of the dead.

A long line of islands completely shelters Venice from the sea, so that the
waters around its walls are very seldom ruffled into waves. The tide also rises
and falls but little, not more than two or three feet, if so much. Thus no banks
of pestiferous rnud are laid bare at low water by the ebb and flow, and yet
some slight circulation is maintained in the canals, which, were it not for this, would
be as intolerable as cesspools. Small boats can find their way over most parts of
the lagoon, where in many places a safe route has to be marked out with
stakes, but for large vessels the channels are few. A long island, Malamocco by name,
intervenes between Venice and the Adriatic, on each side of which are the chief
if not the only entrances for large ships. At its northern end is the sandy beach
of the Lido, a great resort of the Venetians, for there is good sea-bathing. But
except this, Malamocco has little to offer; there is more interest in other parts
of the lagoon. At the southern end, some fifteen miles away, the old town of
Chioggia is a favourite excursion. On the sea side the long fringe of narrow
islands, of which Malamocco is one, protected by massive walls, forms a barrier
against the waves of the Adriatic. On the land side is the dreary fever-haunted
region of the Laguna Morta, like a vast fen, beyond which rise the serrate peaks
of the Alps and the broken summits of the Euganean Hills. The town itself,
the Roman Fossa Claudia, is a smaller edition of Venice, joined like it to the
mainland by a bridge. If it has fewer relics of architectural value it has suffered
less from modern changes, and has retained much more of its old-world character.

Murauo, an island or group of islands, is a tiny edition of Venice, and a
much shorter excursion, for it lies only about a mile and a half away to the north of

THE NORTHERN ADRIATIC. 251

the city. Here is the principal seat of the workers in glass ; here are made those
exquisite reproductions of old Venetian glass and of ancient mosaic which have
made the name of Salviati noted in all parts of Europe. Here, too, is a cathedral
which, though it has suffered from time, neglect, and restoration, is still a grand
relic. At the eastern end there is a beautiful apse enriched by an arcade and
decorated with inlaid marbles, but the rest of the exterior is plain. As usual in
this part of Italy (for the external splendour of St. Mark's is exceptional) all
richness of decoration is reserved for the interior. Here columns of choice stones
support the arches ; there is a fine mosaic in the eastern apse, but the glory of
Murano is its floor, a superb piece of opus Alexandrinum, inlaid work of marbles
and porphyries, bearing date early in the eleventh century, and richer in design
than even that at St. Mark's, for peacocks and other birds, with tracery of strange
design, are introduced into its patterns.

But there is another island* beyond Murano, some half-dozen miles away from
Venice, which must not be left unvisited. It is reached by a delightful excursion
over the lagoon, among lonely islands thinly inhabited, the garden grounds of
Venice, where they are not left to run wild with rank herbage or are covered by trees.
This is Torcello, the ancient Altinum. Here was once a town of note, the centre
of the district when Venice was struggling into existence. Its houses now are few
and ruinous ; the ground is half overgrown with poplars and acacias and pomegranates,
red in summer-time with scarlet floweis. But it possesses two churches which, though
small in size, are almost unique in their interest, the duomo, dedicated to St. Mary,
and the church of Sta. Fosca. They stand side by side, and are linked together by
a small cloister. The former is a plain basilica which retains its ancient plan and
arrangement almost intact. At the west * end is an octagonal baptistery, which,
instead of being separated from the cathedral by an atrium or court, is only divided
from it by a passage. The exterior of the cathedral is plain ; the interior
is not much more ornate. Ancient columns, with quaintly carved capitals
supporting stilted semicircular arches, divide the aisles from the nave. Each
of these has an apsidal termination. The high altar stands in the centre of the
middle one, and behind it, against the wall, the marble throne of the bishop
is set lip on high, and is approached by a long flight of marble steps. On
each side, filling up the remainder of the curve, six rows of steps rise up like
the seats of an amphitheatre, the places of the attendant priests. The chancel,
true to its name, is formed by enclosing a part of the nave witli a low stone
wall and railing. Opinions differ as to the date of this cathedral. According to

* I caniiof answer for the 'accuracy of the compass indications. It did not occur to me to observe, and in Italy
little heed is paid to ''orientation." Rome, as the late Dean Stanley remarked, is in some respects more Protestant
than Anglican churchmen.

252

Till-: PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

Feigusson it waa erected early in the eleventh century, but it stands on the site of
oiie quit.- tour centuries older, and reproduces the arrangement of its predecessor
if it doea not actually incorporate portions of it. Certainly the columns and
capitals in the nave belong, as a rule, to an earlier building. Indeed, they have
probably done duty more than once, and at least some of them were sculptured
before the name of Attila bad been beard of in the delta of the North Italian rivers.
The adjoining church of Sta. Fosca is hardly less interesting. An octagonal
case, with apses at the eastern end, supports a circular drum, which is covered

Chiaggia, looting

the Atlriatic.

by a low conical roof, and a cloister or corridor surrounds the greater part of
the church. This adds much to the beauty of the design, the idea, as Fergusson
remarks, being evidently borrowed from the circular colonnades of the Koinan
temples. Ee also justly praises the beauty of the interior. In this church also,
which in its present condition is not so old as the cathedral, the materials of a
much older building or buildings have been employed. But over these details
or the mosaics in the cathedral we must not linger, and must only pause to
mention the curious stone chair in the adjacent court which bears the name
of the throne of Attila; perhaps, like the chair of the 'Dukes of Carinthia, it
was tbe ancient seat of the chief magistrate of the island.

a
o

u
Q

THE NORTHERN ADRIATIC.

253

There are two ways of journeying from Venice to Trieste, one by sea, the
other by land. On the former, except at the beginning and the end, the coast is
left far away ; and even if the course of the steamer were to lie nearer to the
land but little could be seen except the dim outlines of distant hills, for broad
and low alluvial plains intervene between them and the sea. The railway also
avoids the coast, and passes some distance inland near to or along the foot of
the hills ; for towns are few and small, and the population is sparse on the level
marshy delta of the Piave and the Tagliamento. So, although there is some pretty
scenery when the rail-
way begins to hug
the hills; though there
are one or two towns
of interest passed en
route; though a fine
old cathedral and a
small village among
fragments of ruin near
the embouchure of the
Tagliameuto indicate
the site of Aquileia,
that great city which
Attila and his hordes
destroyed, we will pass
on at once across the
Austrian frontier to

the chief port of the
Northern Adriatic.

Trieste in aspect
is the opposite to

Venice. The latter looks more picturesque than prosperous, the former more
prosperous than picturesque. The one owes more to art than to nature, the
other more to nature than, in a certain sense, to art. Still, as will be seen,
there are in Trieste one or two nooks where the antiquarian will be rewarded.
In the forefront is a fine modern seaport, but behind this and encompassed
by this is an old-fashioned town. The beauty of the situation is beyond question.
The modern town, with its harbours, occupies a level tract of land, part of
which has been reclaimed from the sea. At the mouth of a small rocky valley,
overlooked by the spurs of the Istrian hills, the situation of Trieste, though on a
much larger scale, reminds one a little of that of Hastings. The town covers the

Villa iViramar, near Trieste.

j.-,l THE PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

narrow space between the water's edge and the hills, up the slopes of which it climbs.
A broad quay intervenes between the sea and a line of blocks of large and lofty
buildings. These at one place, where they are grandest, form a kind of square, open on
the western side to the sea; among them are the palatial offices of the Austrian Lloyd
Company and the fine group of the new municipal buildings. Projecting moles
enclose the harbours, old and new, and from the end of one of these rises a lofty
lighthouse. Nearer to the railway station, which is at the northern end of Trieste,
the continuity of the buildings is again broken ; this time by a large dock, which
enables the vessels to discharge their cargoes almost at the doors of the warehouses.
At the head of this rises the church of St. Antonio, a large building in a modern
Greek style. In all this part of Trieste the streets are broad and level, paved with
slabs of stone ; the shops are large, the houses high and substantial, and often really
handsome. On each side of the valley, which has been mentioned above, the
town mounts the slopes. The houses stand thickest upon the southern side, where
they climb up the hill and cluster round a fortress on the summit. This is the old
town of Trieste. Its narrow, winding streets so steep as to be ill suited for vehicles ;
its long nights of steps affording to foot passengers a more direct line of ascent ;
its old and often shabby houses, form a contrast as complete as possible with the
modern seaport below. For more than twenty centuries there has been a town upon
this headland, and among these houses we must search for whatever relics of
antiquity Trieste may have to show. The most important is almost on the summit
of the hill, on a little plateau, if it deserves the name, just below and outside the
walls of the castle. It may be reached more quickly by one of those long flights
of steps. On this, as we rise higher, we find a beggar posted at each angle, a
position discreetly chosen, for here of necessity the short-winded visitor must halt to
take breath, and thus cannot avoid giving ear to the petitioner. It must be a
matter for a refined calculation to ascertain which is the most lucrative position;
for though the halts must .perforce become longer with each flight mounted, the
supply of kreutzers, like that of breath, may begin to run short.

These steps lead us to an open piazza, bounded on one side by a terrace wall,
on the other by an old-looking church with a low campanile. This is the duomo
of Trieste, dedicated to San Giusto. It seems at first sight hardly more than a very
ordinary parish church: small and mean for the cathedral of such an important town;
but on closer examination it makes up in interest for any deficiency in architectural
splendour. On approaching the west front we notice two plain, deep arches at the
base of the tower. These lay bare to view the basement and two columns of a building
evidently Roman. Higher up part of the frieze of a temple is incorporated into the
Another column is built into the south wall near its eastern angle. We
look through an open door into the lower chamber of the same tower and see more

THE NORTHERN ADRIATIC.

255

columns. On each side of the west doorway halves of Roman tombs, with rudely
carved heads, are built into the wall. The interior of the church is not less
interesting than the exterior. It consists of a central nave with side aisles ; the
latter also are flanked by narrow aisles at a slightly higher level. These are divided
one from another by plain semicircular arches resting on columns. The material
probably is marble or granite, but it is, or was, hidden by a casing of red stuff,
a detestable kind of decoration which is too common in southern Europe. The
capitals, like the columns, are varied in size, design and date. Some are Eoman,
others appear to be Byzantine, probably of a rather early date. Above these are impost
blocks, which also
vary so as to
bring the spring
of the arches to
a uniform level.
It is evident that
this part of the
cathedral is very
ancient ; a frag-
ment of an old
basilica, in the
building of which
the materials of
a temple of pre-
Christian times
were used. At
the eastern end
are apses, and in

those terminating the aisles some curious ancient mosaics still remain. The rest of
the church is assigned to the fourteenth century, but the original basilica is supposed
to have been erected in the sixth century, or perhaps a little earlier. In the
later work of this church there is nothing remarkable, but some who cherish the
memory of a " conquered cause " may find an interest in gazing at the slab which
covers the remains of Don Carlos, brother of Ferdinand VII. of Spain.

Nothing is known of Trieste until the first century before the present era, when
it was conquered by the Romans. A colony appears to have been established at
Tergeste before 51 B.C., for in that year it was attacked and plundered by some
of its wild neighbours. To protect it against a recurrence of this mishap, Octavianus
afterwards fortified the town. On the break-up of the Roman Empire Tergeste
shared the fate of Istria, and passed under various hands; and then it maintained

Bay of Parenzo.

256

THE /'/('7'/ RE8QUE MEDITERRANEAN.

a,, independent existence under its Counts, and after a long struggle with Venice it
seemed itself from tliat Power in IMS'.) by invoking the protection of Leopold of
Austria, into which realm it was ultimately absorbed. But for a long time

Tergeste was a much less
important place than Aquileia,
which was the principal
Koman harbour at the north
end of the Adriatic. The rise
of Trieste began early in the
eighteenth century, when it
was made a free port by
Charles VI., and was espe-
cially fostered by Maria
Theresa, his daughter. Now
it is the chief mercantile
port of the Austrian Empire,
and engrosses almost the
whole trade of the Adriatic.
Its population in the middle
of the last century was under
seven thousand ; it is now
more than ten times that
number. In 1880 the town
itself was said to contain
seventy -four thousand five
hundred and forty -four in-
habitants, with about sixty
thousand more in the sub-
urbs. As may be supposed,
there is a great mixture of
races, but the majority are
Italian. It is the head-
quarters of the Austrian Lloyd
Company, the seat of the
bishopric of Capo d'Istria, and
the centre of government of

Istria. Italy casts longing eyes at Trieste: all the district between it and
the frontier forms part of the Italia irinli-nln for which its more noisy patriots
continue to clamour. But this is too valuable to be given up by Austria, except

tli Kicfjnh, 7'rifs/e.

THE NORTHERN AD1UATIC.

257

under the compulsion of tlie direst disaster. The cession of Trieste would mean
the loss of her finest port on the Adriatic. If one may judge by appearances, the
inhabitants are better off as they are ; for even if the dual government is neither
particularly wealthy nor prosperous, still less is that of United Italy. Each nation,
like every other one in Europe, has formidable breakers ahead, but the future of the
latter is certainly not more hopeful than that of the former. Italy is crashed down
by debt and taxation, and has its hands full enough for many a year to come. It
would do well to set in order the land which it has obtained, to make the lazy
industrious and the liars truthful and the thieves honest, before it seeks to
remove its neighbour's landmark and to acquire a territory to which it has only a
sentimental claim.

But before quitting Trieste let us try to give some slight idea of the surrounding
scenery. Except for its situation, as has been said, and on account of its palatial
structures facing the sea, the town itself is not particularly attractive : it is a mass
of white or light-coloured houses, covered with pantile roofs of low pitch, light red in
colour, but here and there assuming a grey tint from long exposure to the weather,
crowding up the steep hillside, and overlooked by the grey-brown walls of the citadel
and the low tower of the cathedral. This mass of buildings is unbroken by spires or
tall campaniles, only a few low domes interrupting the straight lines of the roofs.
Beyond the buildings the surrounding slopes are covered in the smoother parts by
vineyards, varied occasionally by olive, mulberry, and fig-trees; in the rougher by
small Spanish chestnuts, scrub-oak, and pines. Sometimes the bare rock shows through
the foliage, alternating bands of brown stone and darker shale, here and there strangely

Capo

j.-,s THE PK'Tl'REXQUE .MEDITERRANEAN.

twisted. Tliis rock forms the rising ground at the back of the town, and it is
prolonged to the north-west in a long, wooded hill which shelves down to the sea.
From among the woods on this low promontory, half a league or so away, gleams
;i pah'-givy mass of buildings, the Castle of Miramar; and at the back, not here
only, but all along to the north, rises a higher line of hills, bedded limestone, bare
and grey, the outer zone of the Julian Alps, a vast mass of hard cream-coloured
limestone, which not only sweeps round the head of the Adriatic, but extends league
after league along its eastern margin. Southward, beyond the Molo di Santa Teresa
and the neighbouring inland slope, the Istrian hills rise, headland after headland,
blue in the distance, above the glittering sea.

This Castle of Miramar, with its central tower standing among dark woods and
overlooking the water, conspicuous in every view from Trieste, is a silent memorial
of a melancholy history. It was the favourite home of the ill-fated Maximilian,
brother of the reigning Emperor of Austria, and his yet more ill-fated wife. Here
for a few happy years he devoted himself to study and to patriotic work, until lie
accepted, against his own desire, the position of Emperor of Mexico, and quitted
Miramar to undertake the government of a semi-civilised and disunited nation. How
the project failed is a matter of history. Betrayed by a traitor, he was shot at
Queretaro by the order of President Juarez, the leader of his opponents ; a useless
murder which ended tlte most tragic episode of our own times.

Not many words are needed to describe the Istrian coast for several leagues
south of Trieste. It shelves gently upwards, a land of rolling hills, of pale-grey barren
rock, and low woods more grey than green. Here and there on the crest of a hill,
here and there near the water-side, is a village or townlet, a group of light-coloured
houses clustering round a campanile, which in aspect reproduces, though on a
humbler scale, that of San Marco at Venice. Yet farther inland the hills rise higher,
recalling the Jura in their outline, tame in colour, at any rate in the late autumn,
but becoming blue in the distance. Capo d'Istria lies back in its bay, far away from
the path of the larger steamers, but it can be reached by land or by a special boat
from Trieste. The town stands on an island which is connected with the mainland
by a causeway. This is a memorial of the French intrusion into this region: they
blew up an old castle and constructed the road. The influence of Venice is very
perceptible both in the plan and the architecture of the town, and some of the
buildings are interesting. Capo d'Istria occupies the site of the Roman Justinopolis,
and the Pallazzo Publico, a curious mediaeval building, is said to take the place of
a temple of Cybele. Pirano (recalling the Roman Pareatium), a rather large town on
its projecting headland, is made conspicuous by its church, a basilica built by Bishop
Euphraeirn in the sixth century. Its old fortress is a memorial of more troublous
times, though it is more recent than the date of that great historic sea-fight when the

THE NORTHERN ADRIATIC. 259

fleet of Venice destroyed that of the Emperor Frederick I. His sou Otho was
among the prizes of victory. A more permanent memorial of this was the ring
which the Pope sent to the Doge Ziani on his return to Venice, as a symhol that the
city could claim the sovereignty of the Adriatic.

Eovigno stands finely on a headland ; the great church overlooks the sea
from its terraced site, and its tall campanile, in outline recalling that of San Marco,
but crowned hy a statue, is seen for many a mile of the Adriatic. On the landward
slope and on each side, the town, a clustered mass of square-lmilt, light-coloured
houses, slopes downwards from this common centre. It is pleasantly wooded
and terminates in two rows of limestone cliffs. As an additional protection, one
long island and two islets, on one of which is a ruined church, rise from the
sea. The limestone hills in the background are shaded with forests or planted
with olives ; for the oil of this district is noted, and still more the wine, the
latter being considered to be the best made in Istria. It is very dark in colour,
and is stronger than most of the vin ordinaire of Italy.

But the traveller will forget this monotony when he reaches Pola. a town
hardly less remarkable for its situation than for its antiquities. Nature seems to
have designed it for a great naval station ; such it was in Roman times, such it is
at the present day. The sea TOUS up into the land, or the land runs out into the
sea, for either statement is quite accurate or quite the reverse ; in short, there is
here a land-locked bay entered by a comparatively narrow channel, and its southern
side is formed by a peninsula which at one place is almost cut through. The town
itself lies some little distance on the land side of this narrow neck, so that its
harbour is safe from wave and storm and its quays and shipping can be guarded by
forts which keep hostile fleets at a distance. It stretches along by the side of the
bay, being built on the slope of a low limestone hill of the usual character, still more
protected by a flat island, which has now been linked to the mainland by a causeway.
By its modern development into an important naval arsenal, which has studded its
shores with sheds and slips and factories and storehouses, its classic relics have been
thrown a little into the shade, and its picturesqueness has been seriously diminished;
but the vast mass of its amphitheatre cannot be hid, and looms up grim and grand
in every view, the most conspicuous but by no means the only memorial of its
Roman masters.

Pola, in fact, is a place of great antiquity. No one knows when it was founded
or by whom. A legend attributes it to colonists from Colchis who were in pursuit
of Medea ; but this will not avail with modem sceptics. It was at any rate founded
before the Romans conquered Istria, two centuries before the Christian era. Even
then it was a town of importance, but later on it was almost destroyed by Julius
Cfesar as a penalty for having taken the side of Pompey. Prosperity, however, returned

260

77//V I'H "l'

MEJHTKHHA XNAN.

with Augustus, \vlio made it a Roman colony, and gave it the name of Pietas Julia,
in honour of his daughter. It was a place of gloomy memories to the Constantino
family. To Tola, Crispus, eldest son of Constantino the Great, was brought a
captive, and there he perished by an unknown mode of death, one thing only being
clear, that it was not a natural one. At Pola also, some years later, Gallus, the
nephew of the emperor, was executed by the order of his cousin Constantino.
In later times we read of the fleet of Belisarius lying at anchor in the harbour,
waiting to carry the imperial army to Italy to do battle with the Goth. But

Stvigne.

in the Middle Ages its history is, like that of the other seaports on the

Eastern Adriatic, by no means one of uninterrupted peace, though without episodes

general interest, till at last, in the present century, it passed finally into

handa of Austria. It is now a comparatively large town, but as it is near

some tracts of marshy land, it is said to be a rather unhealthy one.

Roman remains are not rare, and are sufficiently important to have attracted
ch notice from antiquaries. Parts of the old town wall, with some of the gates,
Just within the entrance from the harbour is a small triumphal arch,'
Corinthian columns, and which bears the name of the Arco del Sergio. It
a erected, as is stated by an inscription which still remains, by one Salvia Postuma
ol a member of that family, as a memorial of her husband's safe return from a

h
<C
U
X
h

I
CL

_>r,:i ////; i'i< "i'i 7,'/-;.s7 ( > r/-; MKDITKHH. i .v/v. i .v.

successful campaign. On mil- side of the market-place are the remains of two small

Unman temples. One of tliem, dedicated to Augustus and Rome, is still fairly perfect ;

the other, of which only a fragment is left, is incorporated into the medieval Piila/./o

1'uhlieo, a Venetian structure, and is said to have heeii dedicated to Diana. Hardly

anvthing of the ancient theatre is now left, though it was standing so late as the

beginning of the sixteenth century. Hut the glory of Pola is its amphitheatre,

which is situated on the northern side of the town. This is remarkahle in more

than one respect. It is a massive oval wall, pierced, as usual, with openings. This

i> nnlv the shell of the ancient building. In the amphitheatres at Rome and at

Verona much of the interior still remains, though part of the exterior has been

quarried away. At Nismes and at Aries both the one and the other are still fairly

perfect ; at Pola corridors, staircases, seats, have all disappeared, with the exception

of a few shapeless masses of masonry which protrude from the sward, and only this

enormous ring of arches still remains in solitary grandeur. This amphitheatre

is built on sloping ground. Thus on the western side the wall is formed by a

sub-basement supporting two tiers of arches, over which is a line of square openings ;

but at the opposite side the building consists only of two storeys, the second tier of

arches resting upon the ground. Externally, however, it is not quite an unbroken

oval. There are four projections at equal distances, which appear to have been

built to contain staircases ; as, however, these are constructed of a different stone

from that of the main wall, it has been doubted whether they are part of the

original design. It is supposed that the seats and other' internal fittings were of

wood. This seems very probable, for otherwise it is nearly impossible to explain

why the interior, where the masonry would be coarser and of less valuable materials,

has been almost completely destroyed, while the exterior has been left generally

in good preservation. Mr. Fergusson, in his "Handbook of Architecture," states

that this amphitheatre belongs certainly "to the last days of the Western Empire,"

like that of Verona. " It presents all the features of the last stage of transition ;

the order is still seen, or rather is everywhere suggested, but so concealed and kept

subordinate that it does not at all interfere with the general effect. But for

these faint traces we should possess in this amphitheatre one specimen entirely

emancipated from incongruous Grecian forms ; but, as before remarked, Rome

perished just on the threshold of the new style."

The streets of the older part of Pola, as is usual in these East Adriatic towns,
are narrow and picturesque; but there are no mediaeval buildings of special
importance, though the Duomo, the old Franciscan Convent, and the Palazzo
Publico, already mentioned, are not without interest. Perhaps the most striking
feature about Pola, though certainly it does not make it more attractive to the
artist, is the curious contrast between old and new, as the town opens out in

THE NOltTHEllN ADRIATIC. 203

emerging from the narrow channel by which the landlocked harbour (ample enough,
it is said, to contain the whole British navy, and deep enough for the largest
three-decker to lie nearly close in shore) is approached. "Extensive fortifications
for its defence have been erected, numerous detached forts on all the heights
around, and batteries on the island of the Scoglio Grande, which command the
entrance, crossing their fire with others along the shore." Then down by the
waterside, and 011 the Olive Island, are docks and cranes, and factories and shipyards,
all the appliances of another Woolwich or Chatham ; but still conspicuous in every
view is the great wall of the amphitheatre, a memorial of a dead and gone empire
and of a pagan society. But if this proclaims that "the Galilean has conquered,"
Pola mutely asserts that there is not yet "peace upon earth."

The Istrian coast, south of Pola, retains its irregular outline up to the long
headland which terminates at Cape Promontore. Between this and the Dalmatian
coast there is a wide interval, which gradually narrows towards the north. This,
however, is very far from being one unbroken expanse of sea ; it is interrupted by a
number of islands, two or three of them of large size, and is thus broken up into
distinct gulfs and channels, which end at last in the almost landlocked Gulf of Fiume.
Thus on the eastern side the scejiery is far more varied and more pretty than it is along
the western shore of Istria. Still, as the same kind of rock prevails everywhere, the
general outlines are very similar. Inland, to the east, the long line of the Velebich
Mountains closes the view. These rise to a slightly greater height, and are rather
bolder in outline than the hills of Istria, and sometimes become rather craggy
towards the summits. On each side of the gulf the usual iminded limestone hills
occupy the foreground, dotted here and there with pines ; and the islands are simply
repetitions, outlying patches, of the same kind of scenery, the larger often being
almost indistinguishable from the mainland. During the day the sails of the
fishing boats often vary the foreground colours, orange and red, white and brown,
arranged sometimes in quaint patterns ; but the evening tide is the witching hour
in the Gulf of Fiume. Then a golden light suffuses the sky ; the Istria hills, as the
sun disappears behind them, change into purple shadows, darkening in the valleys,
though a glory lingers yet about their summits ; but on those of Croatia the bare
cold limestone begins to glow like molten gold. On the calm sea the reflected
tints of sky and land slowly chase one another across its surface, as bars of amber
and of purple, or are mingled where it dimples into a delicate web of colour. Fiume
itself stands on the eastern side of the head of the gulf, climbing up the flank of
a line of hills which, here as everywhere, rises almost at once from the margin of the
sea. The situation is pretty, and Fiume, like Trieste, consists of a new town and an
old one, the former with spacious streets of modern mansions, the latter with narrow
lanes and crowded houses. Fiume, however, is not nearly so important a place as

264

Till: PICTURESQUE .W /;/>/'/'/: /,'/,'. I. YA'.l.Y.

Trieste, and lias little to detain a traveller with the exception of a Roman arch,
attributed to Claudius If., which exists in fair preservation in one of its narrow
street-, and a ruined castle in the neighbourhood, unless lie should like to ascend
the Ion,-,' flight of steps to the Wallfahrtskirche, or Pilgrimage Church, and see a copy
of the picture of the Virgin which was painted by St. Luke, and the spot where
the S'nifn Cnxti rested on its aerial flight from Nazareth to Loreto.

The harbour of Fiume is a fine one, and the water is deep, so that the
largest vessels can lie alongside the quay. This is a free port, so named, it

appeared to me, on the
principle of Bottom's
dream. Two years
since, as soon as the
traveller landed, he
fell into the clutches
of a Customs officer,
a genuine continental
Customs officer too,
one of " the good old
times"; the species of
animal that rummages
the last corner of the
tiniest hand-bag, that
is suspicious of a
sponge-hag and is

puzzled by a tooth-brush; that smells contraband in a soap-box, and sniffs
suspiciously at a half emptied medicine bottle. All this pantomime is gone through
on the quay, about a quarter of a mile from the railway station, and with
passengers landing from Dahnatia, also, one supposed, part of the Austrian dominions.
Fiume, however, is in Hungary, so this may be one of the blessings of Home
But suppose that the traveller, not intending to pass the night in the
town, proceeds direct to the railway station and deposits his luggage there. Before
he can depart it is subjected to another rummage by another set of officials no
less intelligent! Fiurne ceases to be a free port in a few months; perhaps then
it will become more like other places. At present one feels inclined to define its
freedom as " that which most obstructs the traveller "

T. a. BONXEY.

8*1

Pirano, from the Sea.

Antibes.

THE RIVIERA.

"i~\H., Land of Roses, what bulbul shall sing of thee ? " In plain prose, how
describe the garden of Europe ? The Riviera ! Who knows, save he who has
been there, the vague sense of delight which the very name recalls to the poor
winter exile, banished by frost and cold from the fogs and bronchitis of our inhospitable
northern island ? What visions of grey olives, shimmering silvery in the breeze on
terraced mountain slopes ! What cataracts of Marshal Niels, falling in rich profusion
over grey limestone walls ! What aloes and cactuses on what sun-smitten rocks !
What picnics in December beneath what cloudless blue skies ! Even now, as I sit
here and write these lines on a mellow English June morning, with the white
clematis and the tall irises looking lovingly in at my study window, I pause for a
moment to give a sigh of regret for that beloved Antibes which I quitted six weeks
ago. For to those who know and appreciate it best, the Riviera is something more
than mere scenery and sunshine. It is life, it is health, it is strength, it is
rejuvenescence. The return to it in autumn is as the renewal of youth. Its very

266

THE Pl( 'TURE8QUE MED1TERRANEA .V.

faults arc dear to UN. lor they arc the delects (if its virtues. \Yo can put up with its
dust when \vc ivincmhcr that dust moans sun and dry air; we can forgive its
staring white roads when \vc rolled to ourselves that they depend upon almost
unfailing tine weather and bright, clear skies, when northern Europe is wrapped in

fog and cold and
wretchedness.

And what is
this liiviera that
we feeble folk who
" winter in the
south " know and
adore so well ?
Has everybody
been there, or may
one venture even
now to paint it in
words once more
for the twentieth
time ? Well, after
all, how narrow
is our concep-
tion of " every -
bodj* " ! I suppose
one out of every
thousand in-
habitants of the
British Isles, at a
moderate estimate,
has visited that
smiling coast that
spreads its en-
trancing bays between Marseilles and Genoa; my description is, therefore, primarily
for the nine hundred and ninety-nine who have not been there. And even the
thousandth himself, if he knows his Cannes and his Mentone well, will not grudge
me a reminiscence of those delicious gulfs and those charming headlands that
must he indelibly photographed on his momorv.

The name Hiviera is now practically Knglish. But in origin it is Genoese.
To those seafaring folk, in the days of the Doges, the coasts to east and west of
their m \ n princely city were known, naturally enough, as the liiviera di Levante

Fisher Folk, Riviera.

THE HI VI KB A. 267

and the Riviera di Poiiente respectively, the shores of the rising and the setting
sun. But on English lips the qualifying clause " di Poiiente " has gradually in USM-T
dropped out altogether, and we speak nowadays of this favoured winter resort, by a
somewhat illogical clipping, simply as "the Riviera." In our modern and specially
British sense, then, the Riviera means the long and fertile strip of coast between the
arid mountains and the Ligurian Sea, beginning at St. Raphael and ending at Genoa.
Hyeres, it is true, is commonly reckoned of late among Riviera towns, but by courtesy
only. It lies, strictly speaking, outside the charmed circle. One may say that the
Riviera, properly so called, has its origin where the Esterel abuts upon the Gulf of
Frejus, and extends as far as the outliers of the Alps skirt the Italian shore of the
Mediterranean.

Now, the Riviera is just the point where the greatest central mountain system
of all Europe topples over most directly into the wannest sea. And its best-known
resorts, Nice, Monte Carlo, Mentone, occupy the precise place where the very axis
of the ridge abuts at last on the shallow and basking Mediterranean. They are
therefore as favourably situated with regard to the mountain wall as Pallanza or
Riva, with the further advantage of a more southern position and of a neighbouring
extent of sunny sea to warm them. The Maritime Alps cut off all northerly winds;
while the hot air of the desert, tempered by passing over a wide expanse of
Mediterranean waves, arrives on the coast as a delicious breeze, no longer dry and
relaxing, but at once genial and refreshing. Add to these varied advantages the
dryness of climate due to an essentially continental position (for the Mediterranean is
after all a mere inland salt lake), and it is no wonder we all swear by the Riviera
as the fairest and most pleasant of winter resorts. My own opinion, after trying the
greater part of the places within six or seven days' journey of London, remains
always unshaken, that Autibes, for climate, may fairly claim to rank as the best
spot in Europe or round the shores of the Mediterranean.

Not that I am by any means a bigoted Antipolitan. I have tried every other
nook and cranny along that delightful coast, from Carqueyranne to Cornigliano, and
I will allow that every one of them has for certain purposes its own special advantages.
All, all are charming. Indeed, the Riviera is to my mind one long feast of delights.
From the moment the railway strikes the sea near Frejus the traveller feels he can
only do justice to the scenery on either side by looking both ways at once, and so
"contracting a squint," like the sausage-seller in Aristophanes. Those glorious peaks
of the Esterel alone would encourage the most prosaic to " drop into poetry," as
readily as Mr. Silas Wegg himself in the mansion of the Boffins. How am I to
describe them, those rearing masses of rock, huge tors of red porphyry, rising sheer
into the air with their roseate crags from a deep green base of Mediterranean
pinewood ? When the sun strikes their sides, they glow like fire. There they lie

268

Till-: PICTURESQUE MEDITEEBANEAN.

in their beauty, like a huge rock pushed out into the sea, the advance-guard of the
Alps, unlirokcii save by the one high-road that runs boldly through their unpeopled
midst, and by the timider railway that, tearing to tunnel their solid porphyry depths,
winds cautiously round their base by the craggy sea-shore, and so gives us as
we puss endless lovely glimpses into sapphire bays with red cliffs and rocky
lighthouse-crowned islets. On the whole, I consider the Esterel, as scenery alone,
the loveliest "bit" on the whole Kiviera; though wanting in human additions, as
nature it is the best, the most varied in outlet, the most vivid in colouring.

Turning the corner by Agay, you come suddenly, all unawares, on the blue
bay of Cannes, or rather on the Golfe de la Napoule, whose very name betrays
unintentionally the intense newness and unexpectedness of all this populous
coast, this " little England beyond France " that has grown up apace round Lord
Brougham's villa on the shore by the mouth of the Siagne. For when the bay
beside the Esterel received its present name, La Napoule, not Cannes, was still the
piincipal village on its bank. Nowadays, people drive over on a spare afternoon from
the crowded fashionable town to the slumbrous little hamlet ; but in olden days
La Napoule was a busy local market when Cannes was nothing more than a
petty hamlet of Provencal fishermen.

The Golfe de la Napoule ends at the Croisette of Cannes, a long, low promontory
carried out into the sea by a submarine bank, whose farthest points re-emerge as the
two lies Lerins, Ste. Marguerite and St. Honorat. Their names are famous in history.
A little steamer plies from Cannes to "the Islands," as everybody calls them locally;

./ Forest Kixiii iifiir .-liit/'/vs.

to
Id
Z

j
o

III

THE RIVIERA.

269

77/1.- Estcrcl Afomitaiiis in Cannes.

and the trip, in calm

weather, if the Alps are

pleased to shine out, is

a pleasant and instructive

one. Ste. Marguerite lies

somewhat the nearer of

the two, a pretty little

islet, covered with a thick

growth of maritime pines,

and celebrated as the prison of that mysterious being, the Man with the Iron

Mask, who has given rise to so much foolish and fruitless speculation. Near

the landing-place stands the Fort, perched on a high cliff and looking across to

the Croisette. Uninteresting in itself, this old fortification is much visited by

wonder-loving tourists for the sake of its famous prisoner, whose memory still

haunts the narrow terrace corridor, where he paced up and down for seventeen

years of unrelieved captivity.

St. Honorat stands farther out to sea than its sister island, and, though lower and
flatter, is in some ways more picturesque, in virtue of its massive mediaeval monastery
and its historical associations. In the early middle ages, when communications
were still largely carried on by water, the convent of the lies Lorins enjoyed much
reputation as a favourite stopping-place, one might almost say hotel, for pilgrims
to or from Rome ; and most of the early British Christians in their continental
wanderings found shelter at one time or another under its hospitable roof. St.
Augustine stopped here on his way to Canterbury; St. Patrick took the convent on
his road from Ireland; Salvian wrote within its walls his dismal jeremiad; Vincent
de Lerins composed in it his " Pilgrim's Guide." The sombre vaults of the ancient
cloister still bear witness by their astonishingly thick and solid masonry to their
double use as monastery and as place of refuge from the " Saracens," the Barbary

270

THE PI("n'i;i-:si t )( r r: MEDITERRANEAN.

Cii//i/is.

corsairs of flic ninth,
tenth, and eleventh
centuries. Indeed,
Paynim fleets plundered
the place more than
once, and massacred the
monks in cold blood.

Of Cannes itself,

marvellous product of this gad-about and commercial age, how shall the truthful
chronicler speak with becoming respect and becoming dignity ? For Cannes has
its faults. Truly a wonderful place is that cosmopolitan winter resort. Rococo
chateaux, glorious gardens of palin-trees, imitation Moorish villas, wooden chalets
from the scene-painter's ideal Switzerland, Elizabethan mansions stuck in Italian
grounds, lovely groves of mimosa, eucalyptus, and judas-trees, all mingle together
in so strange and incongruous a picture that one knows not when to laugh,
when to weep, when to admire, when to cry " Out on it ! " Imagine a
conglomeration of two or three white-faced Parisian streets, interspersed with little
bits of England, of Brussels, of Algiers, of Constantinople, of Pekin, of Bern, of
Nuremberg, of Venice, the Brighton Pavilion, and the Italian Exhibition, jumbled
side by side on a green Provencal hillside before a beautiful bay, and you get modern
Cannes; a Babel set in Paradise; a sort of lonlevardier Bond Street, with a view
across blue waves to the serrated peaks of the ever lovely Esterel. Kay; try as it
will, Cannes cannot help being beautiful. Nature has done so much for it that art
itself, the debased French art of the Empire and the Republic, can never for one
moment succeed in making it ugly; though I am bound to admit it has striven as
hard as it knew for that laudable object. But Cannes is Cannes still, in spite of
Grand Dukes and landscape gardeners and architects. And the Old Town, at least, is
yel wholly unspoilt by the speculative builder. Almost every Riviera watering-place
lias such an old-world nucleus or kernel of its own, the quaint fisher village
of ancient days, round which the meretricious modern villas have clustered, one by
on,-, in irregular succession. At Cannes the Old Town is even more conspicuous
than elsewhere; for it clambers up the steep sides of a little seaward hillock,
] '. v tll( ' tmv '' r "I" sin eleventh century church, and is as picturesque, as grey,
U dirty, as mosl other haunts of the hardy Provencal fisherman. Strange, too, to

'/'///; RIVIERA.

271

see how the two streams of life flow on ever side by side, jet ever unmingled.
The Cannes of the fishermen is to this day as unvaried as if the new cosmopolitan
winter resort had never grown up, with its Anglo-Russian airs and graces, its German-
American fri-
volities, round
that unpro-
mising centre.
The Rue
d'Antibes is
the principal
shopping
street of the
newer and
richer Cannes.
If we follow
it out into
the country
by its straight French
boulevard it leads us at
last to the funny old
border city from which
it still takes its unpre-
tending name. Antibes
itself belongs to that
very first crop of civi-
lised Provencal towns
which owe their origin
to the sturdy old Pho-
csean colonists, for whom
the curious may consult
what I have written in
this work already of Nice
and Marseilles. It is a
Greek city by descent,
the Antipolis which faced
and defended the har-
bour of Nicrea ; and

for picturesqueness and beauty it has not its equal on the whole picturesque
and beautiful Riviera. Everybody who has travelled by the "Paris, Lyon,

''."I!"*

Bordighera.

272

THE PK "I'l TRESQUE Mi'.DI Tl-lllliANEA N.

.Mediterranee " knows well the exquisite view of the mole :md harbour as seen in
passing from the railway. I5ut that charming glimpse, quaint and varied as it is,
gives hy no means a full idea of the ancient Phoca'an city. The town stands still
surrounded by its bristling fortifications, the work of Taliban, pierced by narrow
gates in their thickness, and topped with noble ramparts. The Fort Carre that
crowns the seaward promontory, the rocky islets, and the two stone breakwaters of
the port (a small-scale Genoa), all add to the striking effect of the situation and
prospect. "Within, the place is as quaint and curious as without : a labyrinth of
narrow street--, poor in memorials of Antipolis, but rich in lloman remains, including

Alentoiie.

that famous and pathetic inscription to the boy Septentrio, QVI ANTIPOLI IN THEATRO
BIDVO SAI.I AVIT ET 1'LAcviT. The last three words, borrowed from this provincial
tombstone, have become proverbial of the short-lived glory of the actor's art.

The general aspect of Autibes town, however, is at present mediaeval, or even
seventeenth century. A flavour as of Louis Quatorze pervades the whole city, with
its obtrusive military air of a border fortress ; for, of course, while the Var still
formed the frontier between France and Italy, Antibes ranked necessarily as a
strategic post of immense importance ; and at the present day, in our new recrudescence
' military barbarism, great barracks surround the fortifications with fresh white-
washed walls, and the -Hun! Deusse ! " of the noisy French drill-sergeant resounds
day long from the exercise-ground by the railway station. Antibes itself is
therefore by no means a place to stop at ; it is the Cap d' Antibes close by that

MONTE CARLO, FROM ROQUEBRUNE.

J7I

THE PK 'TUBE8QUE MED1T /:!>' UANEAX.

attracts now every year an increasing influx of peaceful and cultivated visitors. The
walks and drives are charming ; the pine-woods, carpeted with wild anemones, are
a dream of delight ; and the view from the Lighthouse Hill behind the town is

one of the loveliest and
most varied on the whole
round Mediterranean.

But I must not linger
here over the beauties of
the Cap d' Antilles, but
must be pushing onwards
towards Monaco and Monte
Carlo.

It is a wonderful spot,
this little principality of
Monaco, hemmed in be-
tween the high mountains
and the assail-
ing sea, and long
hermetically cut

Roquclirmic, from flic Coast.

off from all its more powerful and commercial neighbours. Between the palm-lined

Nice and the grand amphitheatre of mountains that shuts in Mentone

semicircle of rearing peaks, one rugged buttress, the last Ion,

su.,,d,n, spur of the great Alpine axis, runs boldly out to seaward, and ends in the

ky headland of the Tfite de Chien that overhangs Monte Carlo. Till very

THE RIVIEUA. 275

lately no road ever succeeded in turning the foot of that precipitous promontory :
the famous Corniclio route runs along a ledge high up its beetling side, past the
massive Roman ruin of Turhia, and looks down from a height of fifteen hundred
feet upon the palace of Monaco. This mountain bulwark of the Turbia long formed
the real boundary-line between ancient Gaul and Liguria ; and on its very summit,
where the narrow Roman road wound along the steep pass now widened into the
magnificent highway of the Corniche, Augustus built a solid square monument to
mark the limit between the Province and the Italian soil, as well as to overawe the
mountaineers of this turbulent region. A round mediaeval tower, at present likewise
in ruins, crowns the Roman work. Here the Alps end abruptly. The rock of Monaco
at the base is their last ineffectual seaward protest.

And what a rock it is, that quaint ridge of land, crowned by the strange capital
of that miniature principality ! Figure to yourself a huge whale petrified, as he
basks there on the shoals, his back rising some two hundred feet from the water's
edge, his head to the sea, and his tail just touching the mainland, and you have
a rough mental picture of the Rock of Monaco. It is, in fact, an isolated hillock,
jutting into the Mediterranean at the foot of the Maritime Alps (a final reminder,
as it were, of their dying dignity), and united to the Undercliff only by a narrow
isthmus at the foot of the crag which bears the medieval bastions of the Prince's
palace. As you look down on it from above from the heights of the Corniche, I have
no hesitation in saying it forms the most picturesque town site in all Europe. On
every side, save seaward, huge mountains gird it round; while towards the smiling
blue Mediterranean itself the great rock runs outward, bathed by tiny white breakers
in every part, except where the low isthmus links it to the shore ; and with a good
field-glass you can see down in a bird's-eye view into every street and courtyard of
the clean little capital. The red-tiled houses, the white palace with its orderly
gardens and quadrangles, the round lunettes of the old wall, the steep cobbled
mule-path which mounts the rock from the modern railway-station, all lie spread
out before one like a pictorial map, painted iu the bright blue of Mediterranean
seas, the dazzling grey of Mediterranean sunshine, and the brilliant russet of
Mediterranean roofs.

There can be 110 question at all that Monte Carlo even now, with all its
gew-gaw additions, is very beautiful: 110 Haussmaim could spoil so much loveliness
of position ; and even the new town itself, which grows apace each time I revisit it,
has a picturesqueness of hardy arch, bold rock, well-perched villa, which redeems it
to a great extent from any rash charge of common vulgarity. All looks like a scene
in a theatre at pantomime time, not like a prosaic bit of this work-a-day world of
ours. Around us is the blue Mediterranean, broken into a hundred petty sapphire
bays. Back of us rise tier after tier of Maritime Alps, their huge summits clouded

276

Till-: PICTl'llK^QliE MEDI TEllllAXEAN.

in ;t lleecv mist. 'I'o the left stands tlie white rock of Monaco; to the right, the
green Italian shore, fading away into the purple mountains that guard the Gulf of
(Jeiioa. Lovely l>y iiitture, the ininiediiito neighbourhood of the Casino has heen
made in some ways still more lovely by art. From the water's edge, terraces of
tropical vegetation succeed one another in gradual steps towards the grand facade
nf the gambling-house; clusters of palms and aloes, their base girt by exotic ilowers,
are thrust cunningly into the foreground of every point in the view, so that you see
the hay and the mountains through the artistic vistas thus deftly arranged in the
\ei\ splits where a painter's fancy would have set them. You look across to Monaco
past a clump of drooping date-branches; you catch a glimpse of Bordighera through
a framework of spreading dracsenas and quaintly symmetrical fan-palms.

Once more under way, and this time on foot. For the road from Monte
Carlo to Mcntone is almost as lovely in its way as that from Nice to Monte Carlo.
It runs at first among the ever-increasing villas and hotels of the capital of Chance,
and past that sumptuous church, built from the gains of the table, which native
wit has not inaptly christened "Notre Dame de la Roulette." There is one
point of view of Monaco and its bay, on the slopes of the Cap Martin, not far from
Roquebnme, so beautiful that though I have seen it, I suppose, a hundred times or
more, I can never come upon it to this day without giving vent to an involuntary
cry of surprise and admiration.

Roquebrune itself, which was an Italian Roccabruua when I first knew it, has

W '
E

278 /'///; PICTURESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

a quaint situation of its own, and a quaint story connected with it. Brown as its
o\\n rocks, the tumbled little village stands oddly jumbled in and out among huge
masses of pudding-stone, which must have fallen at some time or other in headlong
confusion from the scarred face of the neighbouring hillside. From the Corniche
road it is still quite easy to recognise the bare pitch on the mountain slope whence
the landslip detached itself, and to trace its path down the hill to its existing
position. But local legend goes a little farther than that: it asks us to believe that
the rock fell as we see it ////// tlte lioiises on top; in other words, that the village was
built before the catastrophe took place, and that it glided down piecemeal into the
tossed-about form it at present presents to us. Be this as it may, and the story
makes some demand on the hearer's credulity, it is certain that the houses now
occupy most picturesque positions : here perched by twos and threes on broken
masses of conglomerate, there wedged in between two great walls of beetling cliff,
and yonder again hanging for dear life to some slender foothold on the precipitous
hillside.

We reach the summit of the pass. The Bay of Monaco is separated from the
Bay of Mentone by the long, low headland of Cap Martin, covered with olive groves
and scrubby maritime pines. As one turns the corner from Eoquebrune by the col
round the cliff, there bursts suddenly upon the view one of the loveliest prospects
to be beheld from the Corniche. At our feet, embowered among green lemons and
orange trees, Meutone half hides itself behind its villas and its gardens. In the
middle distance the old church with its tall Italian cainpanile stands out against
the blue peaks of that magnificent amphitheatre. Beyond, again, a narrow gorge
marks the site of the Pont St. Louis and the Italian frontier. Farther eastward
the red rocks merge half indistinctly into the point of La Mortola, with Mr.
Hanbury's famous garden; then come the cliffs and fortifications of Ventimiglia,
gleaming white in the sun ; and last of all, the purple hills that hem in San Eemo.
is an appropriate approach to a most lovely spot; for Mentone ranks high for
beauty, even among her bevy of fair sisters on the Ligurian sea-board.

Yes, Mentoue is beautiful, most undeniably beautiful; and for walks and drives

perhaps it may bear away the palm from all rivals on that enchanted and enchanting

Riviera. Five separate valleys, each carved out by its own torrent, with dry winter

bed, converge upon the sea within the town precincts. Four principal rocky ridges

divide these valleys with their chine-like backbone, besides numberless minor spurs

branching laterally Inland. Hach valley is threaded by a well-made carriage-roa.l.

I each dividing ridge is climbed by a bridle-path and footway. The consequence

l't the walks and drives at Mentone are never exhausted, and excursions among

< -night occupy the industrious pedestrian for many successive winters. What

they are. to,, those great bare needles and pinnacles of rock, worn into jagged

THE RIVIEEA.

279

Savona, from Ablrissola.

peaks and points by the ceaseless
rain of ages, and looking down
from their inaccessible tops with
glittering scorn upon the green
lemon groves beneath them !

The next town on the line,
Bordighera, is better known to

the world at large as a Bivieran winter resort, though of a milder and quieter type,
I do not say than Nice or Cannes, but than Mentone or San Bemo. Bordighera,
indeed, has just reached that pleasant intermediate stage in the evolution of a
Bivieran watering-place when all positive needs of the northern stranger are amply
supplied, while crowds and fashionable amusements have not yet begun to invade its
primitive simplicity. The walks and drives on every side are charming ; the hotels
are comfortable, and the prices are still by no means prohibitive.

San Bemo comes next in order of the cosmopolitan winter resorts : San Bemo,
thickly strewn with spectacled Germans, like leaves in Vallombrosa, since the
Emperor Frederick chose the place for his last despairing rally. The Teuton finds
himself more at home, indeed, across the friendly Italian border than in hostile
France ; and the St. Gotthard gives him easy access by a pleasant route to these
nearer Ligurian towns, so that the Fatherland lias now almost annexed San Bemo,
as England has annexed Cannes, and America Nice and Cimiez. Built in the evil
days of the Middle Ages, when every house was a fortress and eveiy breeze bore a
Saracen, San Bemo presents to-day a picturesque labyrinth of streets, lanes, vaitlts,
and alleys, only to be si;rpassed in the qxiaint neighbouring village of Taggia. This

280

'I' lib] PICTURESQUE MEDt '/'/; /,'/,'. I NEAN.

is tin- heart of the earthquake re-ion, too; and to protect themselves against that
frequent and unwelcome visitor, whose mark may he seen on half the walls iu the
outskirts, the inhabitants of San l!emo have strengl hened their houses by a system
,,f arelies thrown at varying heights across the tangled paths, which recalls
Algiers or Tunis. From certain points of view, and especially from the east side,
San lu-nio thus resembles a huge pyramid of solid masonry, or a monstrous pagoda

hewn out by giant hands
from a block of white free-
stone. As Dickens well
worded it, one seems to pass
through the town by going
perpetually from cellar to
cellar. A romantic railway
skirts the coast from San
Rerno to Alassio and Savona.
It forms one long succession
of tunnels, interspersed with
frequent breathing spaces be-
side lovely bays, "the pea-
cock's neck in hue," as the
Laureate sings of them. One
town after another sweeps
gradually into view round
the corner of a promon-
tory, a white mass of houses
crowning some steep point
of rock, of which Alassio
alone has as yet any pre-
tensions to be considered a
home for northern visitors.

Si von a an Italian cross-country line (give to such a wide berth, O ye

wise ones !) runs inland to Turin, through a beautiful mountain district thick with

flowers in the spring-time, and forms the shortest route home from the Ligurian

Bsorts // the Mont Cenis tunnel. But he that is well advised will take rather

lirect line straight on to Genoa, and thence to the Italian lakes, which break

uldenness of the change from a basking Bivieran April to the wintry depths

J in Kngland or Scotland. A week at Lugano or Locarno lets one down

Thence to Lucerne and Paris is an easy transition.

GRANT ALLEN.

Alassio.

GENERAL INDEX.

Abercrombie, General, death at Alexandria,

I. 208

Ablona. Bay of, I. 258
Aboukir, and Nelson's victory, I. '220222
About, Edinond, on the importance of

Marseilles, I. 46
Abruzzi Mountains, II. 219
Abu-Abul-Hajez, builder of Moorish Castle,

Gibraltar, I. 14
Abydos, Castle of, II. 27
Abvla, Phoenician name of Ceuta, I. 22
Achilles, Tomb of, II. 2:i
Aci Castello, II. 198
Aci Reale, II. 198
Acis and Galatea, II. 198
Acre, appearance from the sea, I. 101 ; im-
portance and historical reminiscences of,

101, 102

Acro-Corinthus, I. 167171
Acropolis of Palasotyrus, I. 108
Adramyti, Bay of, II. 18
Adramyttiumj II. 18

Adriatic, Eastern (see Dalmatia and Albania)
., Northern (nee Venice, Trieste,

Pola, etc.)
Western (sec Ravenna, Rimini,

Ancona, Brindisi, etc.)
yEgos-Potamos, The, and the victory of

Lysander, II. 28

-(Eneas and the games at Trapani. II. 211
^Eolians, The, and Smyrna, I. 26
JEsculapius, Temple at Spalato dedicated

to, 1. 250
Africa, ''Crystal atmosphere" of, I. (> '.

First expedition to North, 1 50
Afsia, II. 3(1
Agate Cape, II. 119
Agay. II. 208
Agesidamus, II. 92
Agnone, II. 199
Aiclin, Railway to, I. 39
Aitone, Forest of, I. 79
Ajaccio, I. 70, 82; the "Pearl of the

Mediterranean," 82 ; Houses and beauty

of. 83

Ajax, Tumulus of, II. 21!
Alameda Gardens, Gibraltar, I. II
Alaschehr, I. 39
Alassio, II. 280
Alban. Mont. II. 10
Albania, I. 258
Albertacce, I. 77
Alcantara, Valley of the, II. 198
Alcudia, Bay of, I. 206
Alexander the Coppersmith, I. 43
Alexander the Great, and Ephesus, I. 39,

89 : at Tyre, 100 ; founding Alexandria,

209
Alexander of Macedon, rebuilds Smyrna,

I. 26, 90
Alexandretta, I. Ill

Alexandria, I. 23. 31, 46: appearance from
the sea, 207 ; historical interest, 208 ;
Alexander's choice of the site, 209 ;
harliour, 210: main street, 211; Grand
Square. 212 ; Palace of Ras-et-Teen, 213;
view from Mount Caffarelli and the
Delta, 214: Pompey'sPillar,2l5; Library,
216; the Serapeum, cemeteries, mosques,
Coptic convent, and historic landmarks,
217, 218: defeat of Antony, and Na-
poleon, 219; Ramleh, 219; Temple of
Arsenoe, 219: Aboukir Bay and Nelson,
221, 222; Rosetta. Haroun Al Rashid,
and the English expedition of 1807,
223; fertility of the Delta, 225; Cairo
and the rising of the Nile, 226 : Damietta,
227 : Port Said, 227. 228 : ruins of Pelu-
sium, 228 ; Suez Canal and M. de
Lcsseps, 229 231

Algeciras. I. 3, 19

Algeria, I. 47

Algiers, 1. 47, 68 ; "a pearl set in emeralds."

II. 161 ; the approach to, and the
Djurjura, 161 ; the Sahel, Atlas, and the
ancient and modern towns, 162 ; cathe-
dral and mosque, 163 ; tortuous plan of

the new town, 164, 165; Mustapha
Snperieur, and English colony, 166, 167;
a Moorish villa. 168 ; view from El Biur,
Arab cemetery, and idolatry , 1 70 ; super-
stitions and climate, 171; 190

Alhendin, II. 121

AH, Mehemet, I. 210; his works in Alex-
andria. 212, 213 ; destroys English troops
at Rosetta, 223

Almeria, II. 118, 119

Almissa, I. 254

Aloni, II. 30

Alps, The, II. 6 ; the Julian, 258, 267, 269,
276

Alpujarras, The, II. 106, 118

Altinum, II. 251

Amalfi. II. 236, 238, 239

Amandolea, II. 94

Amazons, The, said to have founded Smyrna,
I. 26 ; defeated bv Bacchus and Hercules,
39

Amphitheatre of El Djem. I. 155 ; at Rome,
Verona, Nismes, and Arks, II. 262

Amru, I. 89, 208

Amsterdam and its canals, II. 241

Amurath besieges Smyrna, I. 27

Anacapri, II. 234

Anchises, II. 211

Ancona. Appearance of. II. 71, 75; history,
75, 70 ; arch of Clement, Monte Concro,
the lazaretto, Trajan's arch, and the
Diiomo, 76, 77

Andre, St., II. 12. 16

Andromeda, I. 95

Angelo, Michael, and the marble quarries at
Seravezza, II. 175

Anglicanism and Rome, II. 251, note

Ansedonia, II. 1H7

Anthony, St., of Padua, preaching to the
fishes at Rimini, II. 73

Antihes, I. 47 ; II. 205, 267, 271, 272

Antigonus, his rule at Smyrna, I. 26 ; II. 19

Antiochus. II. 27

Antioco, S.. II. 159

Antipolis, II. 271

Antivari. I. 257

Antonines. The. and North Africa, I. 142

Antonio, St., I. 279

Antony, Mark, and Ephesus, I. 39 ; at the
Temple of Diana, 43 ; defeated by Oc-
tavius at Mustapha Pacha, 219

Apes' Hill, English designation of Ceuta,

I. 22

Apollinaris the martyr, St., relics at Ra-
venna. II. 66

Apollo, birth at Ephesus, I. 39 : temple of,
175 ; temple at Tenedos, II. 21

Aqua3 Sextiai, or Aix, Roman colony on
the site of Marseilles, I. 58

Aqueduct at Tell Kadi, I. 106 ; at Carthage,
150, 151

Aquileia, II. 253, 255, 256

Arabic legend and the Moorish Castle, Gib-
raltar, I. 13

Arago, M., adventure at Seller, I. 271

Aragon, Kings of, Palace of the, at Barce-
lona, I. 185, 198

Aratus and Acro-Corinthus, I. 168

Arbiter, Petronius, I. 67

Archipelago, Islands of the, I. 45

Architecture of Sialato, I. 219 ; Ravenna,

II. 57

Argostoli, II. 142
Arfk, I. 43

Aristophanes, and the sausage-seller. II. 267

Aries, I. 58

Armenians, The, and their trading prac-
tices, I. 30

Arsenoe, Temple of, and the story related
by Catullus, I. 219

Aryan Achfeans, I. 56

Aryan and Semite struggle against Chris-
tianity and Mohammedanism, I. A

Asco, Valley of, I. 78

Ashmunazar, Sarcophagus of, I. 109

Askelon, I. 91, 92 ; ancient history of, 94

Aspromoiite, II, 87

Assos, II. 32

Athana-iius at Alexandria, I. 208

Athens, I. 46, 163: lepers in, 165

Athlit, Ruins of, I. 98

Athos, Mount, II. 22

Atlantic, Ideas of ancient Greeks respecting

the. I. 2, 6
Atlas, Mount, II. 162
Atmosphere, clearness at Smyrna, I. 23
Attard, " village of roses," II. 51
Attila, II. 252
Augusta, II. 199
Augustine, St., and the angel, II. 188; at

St. Honorat. 269
Augustus, and Ravenna, II. 56 ; and Tur-

bia, 275
Austria, acquires Dalmatia, I. 238 ; and

Trieste, II. 256
Autran, Joseph, I. 67
Avenza. II. 174
Avernus, II. 229
Avignon. I. 47
Ayasolook, Turkish name for Ephesus, I.

39, 43

Baba Bournou, 11. 19

Bal>el of tongue* at Smyrna, I. 26

liab-el-Sok, gate of the market-place at
Tangier, 1. 6

Bacchus, and the Amazons of Ephesus, i.
39

Baia?, II. 226, 230

Baindeh, I. 43

Biijaziil I.. II. 29

Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, I. 89, 94, 102

Balearic Islands, I. 259280

Balzac, witty remark on dinners in Paris,
I. 203

Balzan, II. 51

Barbaroux, I. 67

Barcelona, I. 17, 48, 68; eulogy of Cer-
vantes, the promenades and the people,
181 ; funerals, and the flower-market,
182; streets, Rambla. and cathedral, 183;
Palais de Justice, and Parliament House,
184 ; Palace of the kings of Aragon, 185;
museum, irk, and monuments to Prim
and Columbus, 186; bird's-eye view,
Fort of Montjuich, Mont Tibidaho, 187;
cemetery and mode of burial, 188; fes-
tival of All Saints, 189 ; Catalonia, and
the church of Santa Maria del Mar, 190 ;
organ in cathedral, and the suburbs. 192;
Gracia, 192, 193; Sarria, 13; Barce-
loneta, 194 ; Academy of Arts, schools,
music, the University, and workmen's
clubs, 195 : Archa-ologieal Society, prim-
ary education, and places of amusement,
196; history of, 198: trade, healthful
properties, and charitable institutions,
199; churches, convents, electric lighting,
population, and Protestantism, 200 ;
democracy, and holidays of, 201 : Mari-
olatry, 202; Caballaro, 203: climate.
203 ; "hotels, 204 ; good looks of the men
and women, the police, 205; progressive
tendencies, the post-office and passports,
206

Barco, Hamilcar, founder of Barcelona, I.
198

Ban, II. 79

Barletta, II. 79

Barral des Baux, I. 67

Barthelemy, I. 67

Bashier, I. 43

Bastia, Corsica, I. 70

Baths of Barcelona, I. 204: of Cleopatra,
218; of Caratraca, II. 106

Batrun, the ancient Botrys, I. 114

Bavella. Forest of. I. 86

Bay of Biscay, I. 1

Bayazid, besieges Smyrna, I. 27

Bazaars at Tunis, I. 147

Bedouins, at Smyrna, I. 24, 42

Beirut, viewed from the sea, I. 110; its

282

'////; I'lCTUUEHQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

.;-., tiadc. ]ni"ii'ii-. school-., ill..

lln, I'll
II. 1 1. 1. I'll

llcU-ium ..I the Kl-t." Till'. 1. '.'IS

Bdterius, 1. II-'; II. 2iio

Belief. l.e. II. I'J

Belus. River. I. in-;

ll<-l/n: nelir. and till' plague at

Marseille.. I. 1*1. II]
Helmet. 111'.. ii)iillinll of I 'orsica. I. I. I

Bcntinck. Lord W.. and hisuttuck mi Genoa,

1. 121

Bcrcnger. 1. (17

Itciciiice. ami tlif Temple of Ai-senoe, I. 219
Ifi-rn.-ir.lo Kuv dc Meya. I. 202
Berikn Ha\. il. I'll

, I 'a]N-, I. 7 I

Hiivhkiii". I. N.;

Bighi. II. .-Hi

Hr-ccglie. II. 7:i

Bi/ertn, a miiiiatiiri- Vcnii-.-. I. 1C!: canal

works, anil laki-. ill
Hla,-kS,-a. II. 26. :il
lilak.-. Admiral, attack mi I'.irt.i Farina, I.

144

HoalHlil. la>t king of Granada. II. 121
Boccacci.'. an. I tin- church of St. Lorenzo.

Naple>. II. 225
Bocognano. I. S'l

Boay-ooQHnning stone," at As-os, II. :;_>

Hone.' I. 151

Bonifacio. Corsica. I. 7H: tlir ]H'.'iilc. houses.

'.-., 87

Hi.ninalali, Valley i.f. I. -.':!
Bora. Tin-, in Da'lmatia, I. 235
Bordighera. II. 27!
Boron, Mont, II. (i
Bosphorus. Origin of the. II. 31
Bouchard, M.. anil the Egyptian stone at

Kosctta. I. 221

Hourlioiis. The. ami Cotrone. II. 100
Brando, tlrotto lit'. I. 7:i
Braz/a. I. 211
Bridge of Sighs. II. 247
Brigands, at F.phesns. I. 43: of Brando. 7:i -

near Sartene. s ; of Calaliria, II. s:!
Brindisi. II. ;
Uritain. anil Tangier. I. 4 ; and the ncquisi-

tion of Gibraltar. IS; traile in the Levant.

in. .'II : its eomtraotion of railways in the
41; occupation of Minorca, anil

execution of Admiral Byng, --'7.-|
Browning, Rohert, and Gibraltar, I. 6
Brueys. Admiral, defeated by Nelson at

Aboukir Bay, I. 21
Bua. I. 24.)

Buena Vistii, Gibraltar. I. 12, 19
lilllla Regia. I. I.)l
Bull- tights at Barcelona, I. 196 ; at Malaga

II. 11.)

Burgundians. The. I. 5S
Biu-raola. II. .VI

Byng, Admiral, Execution of. I. 275
Byng. Rear-Admiral, and the siege of (Jib.

raltar, I. IS
Byron. Lord, swimming the HellesiKint II

-'S: at Kavenna. 5S
Hy//uitine Empire, and Smyrna. I. 26

Cabo de Bullon'-s. Swinish name of Ceuta.

. I. 251). -J7I

Cadiz Bay. [.6

Caaarea. 1. 'Hi ; buildings and ruins at, 97

Cafe at Gibraltar. I. In

Cagliari. I. 47: S. Avendracio. II. 149;
Buon Cammino. churches and festivals.
150; amphitheatre, 131; festa-davs l.V

Cairo, I. 225 rising O f the Nile. 22r,'

Cala Dueii-a. II. 38

Calaliria. exit of jieople to America, II. 81
simplicity of the jieoplc. and extermina-
tion of brigands. 8:; : liram al, one. Tiriolo
and the forest*, 83; cruelty t.. the )>eople,
; tale of the baron and the offendiii"
clergy. Wi ; Aspromonte and Garibaldi,
Scylla and Charybdis, modern Scilla and
earthquake of 1783, 87, 88; baronial
castles and churches. 89 ; Messina, and
Gerace, 90. Ill ; Sybaris. ,,-> . |(,,,. ella
I"mca and Amandolea, 94; Catanzaro
96 W: Cotrone and Taranto, 99 104

Calawma. I. -

Calpe, Rock of (Gibraltar), I. 2, 12
,alvi I. ,4. '>! -t , .,. ,,-,,, distance " 7.5

Camaldoh lulls. ][. 219

Camby.se.s. I. S'.i; at I'cl.i iuni, 22.)

Cameis at Smyrna, I. :i.)

CamiHi Formi'o, Treaty of. I. 2:!.s

Campi>tile. The. 1. 7'.i'

Canal, (irand. at Venice, II. "J17

( 'alines, II. 2. 7 : "a I'.alicl >et in r.iradi>e."
J7": priucrpal streets, and origin. 271:
tiirtitiratinns of Vaillian. and Kolnan
leinains. 272

Capo d'lstria. II. 258

Caprajn. I. 74; II. IS,'!

Cajiri, II. 21S; chiing^s in ap]H>iirnncc. 22H :
its t'ax'iiiati. >:). 'J:in ; historical associa
tions. 2:!1 ; jialaces of Tiln-rias. 2:!2 : its
lieantifnl women, 2-J2, 233; Blue Grotto.
284

Cartilweel, II. .'!, 11. 15

Caratraoa, Hatlis ,,f. ll. 100

1 'arinthia. llukesof. II. --VJ

Carloforte, II. 157

Carlos. Don, and the rising in Barcelona, I.

198
Carmel, Mount, I. 97; monastery on, 98;

traditions and history, !)!)
Carnival at Xice. II. !) '
Carcineyranne, 11. i?ii7

Carrara, church of S. Andrea, and the
marble quarries, II. 171: mos.juitos. 17-'i
Cartama. II. 114

I 'arthage, Site and remains of, I. 142. 130
Carthagenians. and Genoa. I. 118; and.
Tunis, 142; sepulchres in Sardinia, II.
149; destruction of Selinus, 212
Casal Cunni, II. 31
( 'asiil Nadur, II. 3S
Cassian, St., and the monastery of St. Victor.

Marseilles. I. 62
Castellaccio. Kort of, II. 195
i 'astellamare. II. 'J.'t.'i
Castiglione della I'eseai:i, II. 18). 198
Castile, I. 20

Castle, Moorish, at Gibraltar, I. 13, 14 ;
Crusaders' at Kulat-el Kurein, 103: at
Sidon, 110; at Batrnn, 115; at Tripoli.
115; at Acro-Corinthus, 169; of Belfver,
262 : at Pollensa, 273 ; at Nice. II. 5 ; of
Asia, 25; of Europe (Dardam'lles), 26;
of Abydos, 27 : of Zeme'mck, 2S ; of the
Malatestas, Kimim, 72; at Cotronc, 100;
of Miramar, 258

i 'ataeombs at Alexandria, I. 218
Catania, II. 198, 199

Catauzaro, II. 91,95; picturesqueness, Iwauty
of the women, and mode of salutation,
98, 99

Cathedral, at Gibraltar, I. 1 1 ; at Marseilles
48; at Tyre, 107; at Genoa, 132; at
Barcelona, 183; at Palma, 262; at Nice,
II. 5; at Ravenna, 66, 67; at Ancona.
77; at Messina, 90; at Almeria, 119; at
Algiers, 163; at Pisa, 177; St. Mark's,
Venice, 243246
Cato, Suicide of, I. 146, 160
C'attaro, its history and fortress, I. 255, 256;

churches, 257
Catullus, and his story relating to the temple

of Arsenoe, I. 219
I 'aves of Majorca, I. 271
< Vmeteries of Sidon, I. 109
Cemetery at Alexandria, I. 217
Cephalonia, II. 140; Samoa, Argastoli.
Mount JEnos, and the work of Sir C.
Napier, 142
Cerigo, II. 143; legend of Aphrodite, Kap-

siili, and stalactite caverns, 144
Cerigotto, or Lios, II. 144
Cervantes, euloginm on Barcelona, I LSI
Cervi, II. 143
Cervia, II. (i!)
Cetina. l(iv..|. I. '2'it

Ceuta. I. 11. Ill; origin of name and history
of, 20; main features of, 21; ancient
names, and shape of rock. 22
Champollion. M., and the Egyptian stone at

Rosetta, I. 22 1
Cha.'i.-s Albert, King of Sardinia, and his

palace at Genoa, I. 12C
"Charles III., King," I. 17, 18
Charles V., I. 17 ; expedition to Tunis, 143

besieges Goletta, 146; takes Susa LV>
Charles VI., and Trieste, II. 25G
Chateau d'lf, I. 54
Chateaubriand, and Corinth, I 171
Chemtou, I. 150
Chenak, II. 24, 25
Chersonese, Towns of the, II. 31
Chiavari. I. 137; supplies organ-boys to

China, British trade with, I. 31

Chioggia. II. 250

Chios, I. 23

Cholera, The. at Smyrna. I. 31; at Mar

seilles. ."ill

( 'imic/, II. 3, 11: monastery and amphi-
theatre of. 12. 15
Cinto, Monte, I. 71 : ascent and view from.

Cisterns. Roman, at Minorca. I. 277
( 'iuiladela. Talayots in the vicinity of. I. 277
civita Vecchia. its founder and history. II.

188
Claudius II.. and Hoiinn arch at Finnic. II

263

('lenient XII., I 'ope. Arch at Ancona, II. 76
Cleopatra, and Antony, at the Temple of
Diana, I. 43; at Alexandria. 208; Baths
of. at Alexandria. 21N
Cleopatra's Necdlr. 1. 215
Clissa, Fortress of. 1. 253
Colchis. II. 2.V.I

Colnn -lius. Monument to. at Genoa. I. 130:
monument at Barcelona. ISO; his recep-
tion at Barcelona by Ferdinand and
Isabella. 1811. HIS

Comacchio. Lagoons and fisheries of. II. 70
Coininctto. II. 35
Colnino, II. 34, 38

Concha. General, and the sugar-rune in-
dustry of Malaga. II. 1 13
Conejera. I. 275

Constanrine, Emperor, and Sicyon, 1. Hi3
Constantinople, I. Hi

Constantius, Tomb of, at Ravenna, II 60
Contes. II. 12

Convent. Coptic, at Alexandria. I. 218
Corfu, view from the citadel, and Nelson's
plan for taking the citadel. II. 124 ; his-
torical and poetical allusions, 124, 125 ;
original inhabitants, 125 : Bay of Govina,
128; Castle of St. Angelo, and the
Monastery of I'abeokastritxa. 12!)
Corinth, Gulf of, chief features, I. 161 ;
tranquillity. 162; Sicyon, 163: Vasilika.
Patras, Missolonghi. and the battle of
Lepanto, 164 ; lepers at Patras, 165 : the
Isthmus. 166. 167 ; Acro-Corinthus.
167 171 : remains of old Corinth, 171 ;
modern Corinth, 172 174 : Mount Par-
nassus, 174; Delphi, and the Temple of
Apollo, 174 176 ; interest of the villages.
177; best time for visiting, 178; pirates
and brigands, and the hospitality of a
peasant at Marathon, 179
Corinth, Isthmus of, I. 166
Corneto, " lifts to heaven a diadem of
towers," II. 187; churches. Etruscan
and Roman antiquities, and origin. 187
Cornigliano, II. 267
Corno, Remains of, II. 187
" Coronet of Ionia, The," name for Smyrna.

I. 23

Corradino, II. 50

Corsica, its beauty and general appearance.
I. 69; climate and seasons. 7(1; Cape
Corso, 70; woods and gardens. 71 :
flowers and figs, and appearance of the
men, 72 ; the women, 73, 76 ; La Vasina.
Erbalunga, and the grotto ot Brando.
73; view from Cape Corso, 71 ; Calvi.
and the forest of Yaldoniello, 75 ; wood-
cutting, 76 ; Corte, 77 : Pascal Paoli.
and Monte ('into. 78; Forest of Aitone,
and the hospitality of the people. 7!i :
articles of diet, 80 ; Evisa, and the
Bpelunca, 81 ; Gulf of Porto, and birth-
place of Napoleon, 82 : Ajaccio, 83 ;
Sarteiie. 84 ; forests of Bavclla and St.
Pietro di Verde, 86: Ghisonuccia, and
the grottoes of Bonifacio. SO, 87 ; time
for visiting. SS
Corsican brothers. The, I. 84
Corso, Cape, I. 7n, 71. 75
i 'ortc, I. 75 ; work of Pascal Paoli, 78
Cosen/a, II. 91
Cosspicua, II. .~>n

Cotrone, II. 9<J ; historical events. 100102
Cremation suggested for adoption in Bar-
celona. I. INN
Cressy, Battle of. I. 132
("rispus. son of Constantine the Great, a

captive at Pola, II. 262
Cristobal, St., I. 277
Crusaders, at Smyrna. I. 26 ; at Acre, 102 ;

at Tyre, 107 '
Cumae, II. 226, 230
Curzola, Island of. I. 214. 251

GENERAL INDEX.

283

Cybele, Temple of, II. 258

Cyclops, The, and Smyrna, I. 26 ; and the

Scogli dei Ciclopi, II. 198
Cyprian, St., I. 82
Cyrene, Peninsula of, I. 100
Cyrus, I. 46
Cyzicus, II. 30

Dukhel, Lighthouse at, I. 152
Dalraatia, described, I. 233 ; geological
formation, 234 ; seen at sunset, and the
charm of the sea, 235 ; past history, 236 ;
islands off, 238 ; Zara, or Jadera, 238
242 ; Sebenico, 242, 243 ; Spalato and
Knin, 243 ; islands, 244, 245 ; Trail, 240 ;
Salona, 247, 248 ; architecture of Spalato,
249 ; palace of Spalato, 250 ; site of old
Salona, and modern village, 252, 253 ; the
Cetina, Raguai, and Cattaro, 254 257

Damanhour, I. 225

Damietta, I. 227

Dante, Tomb of, at Ravenna, II. 64 ; and
the story of Francesca, 71

Darby, Admiral, and the siege of Gibraltar,
I. 15

Dardanelles, I. 23, 164 ; historical associa-
tions, II. 18 ; Mounts Ida and Gargaros,
and the oak forest, 19; Besika Bay,
Talion, Keui, andTenedos, 20, 21 ; legend
of Poseidon and Laomedon, 22 : Yenikeui
and Yeni Sliehir, 22 ; tombs of Festus,
Patroclus, and Achilles, and Plain of
Troy and Hissarlik, 23 ; Dr. Schlie-
mann's excavations on the Plain of Troy,
and the Town of Chenak, 24, 25 ; Castle
of Asia, 25 ; Castle of Europe, and
Hecuba, wife of Priam, 26 ; Gulf of
Ma'ito, and the Cape of Nagara, 27 ;
Sestos, story of Leander, Castle of Zemc-
nick, Castles of Kaziler and Ouelger,
and the Town of Lampsaki, 28 ; Tchardak,
Gallipoli, 29; Marble Island, Afsia,
Koulali, Aloni, Gadaro, and Cyzicus, 30 ;
site of Lyshnachia, earthquakes, and the
deluge of Samothrace, 31 ; " The Body-
consuming Stone," 32

Darius, and Abydos, II. 27

Delord, Taxile, I. 67

Delphi, Site of (or Kastri), I. 175; Temple
of Apollo, the stadium, and the earth-
quake of 1870, 175

Delta, Egyptian, Fertility of the, I. 225

Deluge of Samothrace, II. 31

Dervishes at Smyrna, I. 24, 42

Desertcheny, I. 43

Deya, I. 268

Diana, birth at Ephesus, I. 39; temple,
39, 44

Diocletian, Palace of, at Spalato, I. 246,
251 ; retirement at Salona, 247

Dionysius the Tyrant, I. 245

Djama-el-Kebir, Mosque at Tangier of the.
1.6

Djerba, Island of, I. 15" ; the loins, the
Pyramid of Skulls, and great inland sea
at, 159

Djurjura, The. II. 161

Dog river, I. 112

Dolcus, The, of the Greeks, I. 167

Don, General, and the Alanieda Gardens,
Gibraltar, I. 1 1

Don Carlos, brother of Ferdinand VII., II.
255

Donkeys of Smyrna, I. 34, 35

Dor, I. 98

Doria, Andrea, and his influence in Genoa,
I. 119, 126 ; incidents in his life, 130, 159

Doria, Jean, captures the corsair Dragut,

I. 143

Dragonera, Island of, I. 274

Drinkwater, Captain John, and the siege of

Gibraltar, I. 15

Druses of Lebanon, The, I. 110
Duckworth, Admiral, forcing the passage of

the Dardanelles, II. 26
Dulcigno, I. 258
Dumas, Alexandre, allusion to Poz/uoli,

II. 229

Durazzo, I. 258
D'Urfe, I. 67

Dutch, The, in Smyrna, I. 26

"Eagle-Catchers," The (87th Regiment),
Earthquake ill Greece, 1870, I. 175; near

the Dardanelles, II. 31 ; in Calabria,
1783, 87

Edrisi, his description of Beja, I. 151

Edward, son of King John of Portugal, and
his expedition against Tangier, I. 20

Egypt, variety of interest connected with,
I. 210; inscribed stone at Rosetta, 224;
agricultural wealth of, 225 ; the "gift of
the Nile," 226 ; English expedition of
1807, 223

Eteus, II. 22

Elba, I. 74 ; quarries and mines of, II. 180 ;
Napoleon's confinement, plans for im-
proving the island, and his escape,
180183

Elgin, Lord, and the temples of Corinth, I.
170

El Hacho, signal-tower at Gibraltar, I. 14,

El Kantara, ruins of Roman city at, I. 159
Elliot, General, Monument at Gibraltar to.

I. 11 ; the siege of Gibraltar, I. 15, 16
English statuary, Defective, I. 1 1
Ephesians, The, and Smyrna, I. 26
Ephesus, Plains near, I. 23 ; ruins of. his-
torical associations, and the Temple of

Diana, 39, 43, 44
Erbalunga, I. 73, 74
Ersa, I. 74
Eryx, II. 211
Esparto grass, II. 118
Esperandieu, and the church of Notre Dame

de la Garde, Marseilles, I. 03
Estepona, I. 19
Estcrel, The, II. 267, 268
Etna, II. 194, 196, 198, 199, 211
Etruscans, The, II. 184
Eugiinean Hills, The, II. 250
Eugenie, Empress, Spanish origin of, II.

116

Eulalia, St., I. 279
Euphraeim, Bishop, II. 258
Euroklydon, The, at Malta, II. 35
Europa Point, Gibraltar, I. 11 ; Governor's

cottage at, 12, 15
Eusebius, at Tyre, I. 107
Euthymenes, I. 47 ; statue at Marseilles. 50
Euxine, The, and the formation of the Bos-

phorus, II. 31
Evisa, I. 75, 79 ; savage appearance of the

country around, 81
Extortions of Pashas, I. 27
"Eye of Anatolia, The," name for Smyrna,

1.23
Eyes of women at Smyrna, I. 24

Falicon, II. 12, 17

Falo, Monte, I. 78

Famine at Genoa, I. 120

Fano, II. 74

Fellaheen, Egyptian, I. 25

Ferdinand, Don, and the Portuguese at

Ceuta, I. 21
Ferdinand and Isabella, reception of

Columbus at Barcelona, I. 186, 198
Ferdinand II., II. 95
Ferdinand IV., II. 88,211
Ferdinand VII., II. 255
Ferrat, Cape, II. 15
Festus, Tomb of, II. 23
Fiescho, Count, I. 130
Filfla, II. 35

Finocchiarola Islands. I. 74
Fiume, Gulf of, II. 262 ; town of, 262, 263
Florent, St., I. 71 ; Bay of, 74
Florus, and his designation of Corinth, I.

174 ; description of Majorca, 261
Flower Market, at Marseilles, I. 51 ; at

Barcelona, 182
Follouica, II. 185
Folquet, I. 67

Forest, Pine, of Ravenna, II. 67, 69
Formentera, I. 259
Formica, II. 185
Fortifications of Gibraltar, I. 14 18 ; of

Genoa, 119; of Cannes, II. 272; of

Ventimiglia, II. 278
Fortress of Kaz-el-Dagh, I. 23 ; at Tabarca,

143; of Acro-Corinthus, 167, 168; of

Clissa, 253
Fortuity, his paintings at Barcelona, I. 184 ;

195

Fossa Claudia, II. 250
France, and the siege of Gibraltar, I. 18;

captures Genoa, 119; Tunis under its

protection, 142; and Barcelona, 198

Franoesca of Rimini, II. 71, 72

Franceschi, I. 74

Fraser, General, anil the English expedition

to Egypt of 1807, I. 223
Frederick Barbarossa, siege of Ancona. II.

76
Frederick I., destruction of his fleet at

Pirano. II. 258
Frejus, Gulf of, II. 267
Froysard, and the first ex{)edition to Xurth

Africa, I. 156

Funeral at Venice, A, II. 250
Funerals at Barcelona, I. 191

Gabes, the ancient Tacape, and the scheme

of Roudaire, I. 157
Gadaro, II. 30
(Jiilla Placidia, Tomb of, II. 59

Galliera, Duchess of, and the Palazzo Kosso,
Genoa, I. 120

Gallipoli, II. 29

Gargano, Monte, II. 78

Gargaros, Mount, II. 19

Garibaldi, Birthplace of, II. 3 ; at Ravenna.
58 ; defeat at Aspromonte, 87 ; crossing
Calabria, 190; landing at Marsala, 211

Ga/a, Appearance and trade of, I. 90; build-
ings and history of, 91

Gebal, I. 113

Gelat, I. 43

Genoa, I. 23 ; struggle to )>ossess Smyrna ,
26; once a rival of Venice, 117; its
detractors, 117; the beauty of its women,
118; history, 119121; old and new
towns, 121 ; position, and view from the
slopes, 122 ; mediaeval churches, narrow-
ness of streets, and the pnlazzi, 123 ; the
Via Nuova, 124 ; Fergusson on the archi-
tecture of, 125 ; the PaW/xo Ducale, and
the Statue of Hercules, 126, 127; incidents
in the life of Doria, 130; monument to
Columbus, 130; the "old dogana," 131 ;
the Exchange, trade in coral, precious
metals, and filigree work, 132; the cathe-
dral, 132 134; reputed origin of, 134;
church of L'Annunziata, and the Campo
Santo, 134 ; the environs, 135 ; meeting-
place of the Rivieras, 136; railway to
Spezzia, and places on the coast, 137

George I., and Gibraltar, I. 18

George, St., and the Dragon, Myth of, I. Ill

George's Bay, St., Beirut, I. Ill

Gerace, II. 90, 91_

Ghardimaou, I. 150

Ghisonaccia, I. 86

Ghisoni, I. 86

Giardini, II. 196

Gibel Mo-osa, Moorish name of Ceuta, I. 22

Gibraltar, I. 3, 6 ; Robert Browning's re-
ference to, 6 ; resemblance to a lion, 7 ;
landing at, 8 ; variety of nationalities at,
9 ; picturesqueness, 10 ; population, 10 ;
strict military regulations, and chief ob-
jects of interest, 11, 12: Moorish Castle,
13; fortifications, 1418; siege of, 15
18 ; capitulation to the Prince of Hesse,
18 ; the " key of the Mediterranean," 17

Gioja, II. 91

Giraglia, Island of, I. 74

Girgenti, " City of Temples," monuments
of Pagan worship, and Pindar's designa-
tion, II. 203, 204 ; Temple of Concord,
205 ; Temple of Hercules, ravages of
earthquakes, and Shelley's allusion in
" Ozymandias," 206

Glass discovered near the river Belus, I. 103

Globe-trotting, and Gibraltar, I. 12

Golden Horn, I. 23

Goletta, besieged by Charles V., I. 146

Golfe de la Napoule, II. 268

Golo, River, I. 77

Gondolas of Venice, II. 243

Gordian I., Emperor of Thysdrus, I. 155

Gothard, St., II. 248

Gough, Colonel, his defeat of Marshal Victor
at Tarifa, I. 3

Government House at Gibraltar, I. 1 1

Gozo, II. 35, 30, 38

Granada, I. 14 ; II. 121

Gravosa, I. 254

Greece, its deep interest, I. 179 ; prospect of
a revival of its old importance, 180

Greeks, at Gibraltar, I. 10 ; in Smyrna, 26 ;
their trade in the Levant, 31 ; their trade
at Marseilles, 55, 58

Gregorius, The Exarch, I. 142

284

////; PWTUllESQUE MEDITERRANEAN.

-\ tin 1 Great, and tin 1 destruction lit'
ancient idols 111 Sardinia. II. 157
lirimalili. Tin 1 . I. 131
Mo, it. II. 12

I iMi
Grotto nf Brand... I. 73; at Malta ami St.

I'.iul. 11. .'.I; ..I sta. RtMkUa, -Ml : Di

PoMli],. 220; at Capri. 231

i I'.miifaci.i. I. NT

Giiclpli-. Tin 1 , ami lirn.ia. I. I 111

U'l-t. ami St. Nicolas' chimb.

Bari. 117

( iny "t Lusignan. I. 102
iiu/miu. Aloii/o I'crc/ ill 1 , ami his aet ot

defiance at Tarila. 1. '1
Gymnasium of Ephcsus, I. II
G/cicr. II. :i"i

Hadiilar. Valley "f. I. 23

Haifa. I. loo. 103

Hamilcar Barui, and Pellcgrino, II. 211

II iTiiriin. II. .">!

Hainiihal and Ephesus, I. 39, 111; ami

Cotronc and Taranto, II. 99
Harbours of Italy praised by Virgil, I. 23
Harbour* i it' tin 1 Mediterranean, their nlmnd-

ance, I. 23 ; nf Marseilles. 55
Harems kept by British traders. I. 31
Haroun al Hashjd. reputed birthplace. 1.

Hecuba and the sons of Pulvmestor, II. 20

Helena. Empress, I. 91. 11:1

Hcllesjiont. The. 11. '-'-' : and Lcamler, 2S

Henuwei, Village of. I. 10!)

Hepaticas, Valley of, II. 12

Heraclea. II. in-'

Herakles. II. 22

11 Hercules. 1'illars of." I. 1, 2, 6, 22

Urn-nit's and the Amazons of F.phesus. I.
39: Temple at Girgenti, II. 200; Temple
at Selinuiitn. 'Jll

HITIK!. King, and Ceesarea, I. '.Hi. 97

Herodotus and the Syrian insrriptiniis, I. 112

Hesse. Prince of. and the acquisition of
Gibraltar. I. 18

II. \ imil. II. :il

Mirks. Captain, and the siege of Gibraltar.
I. 18

Hiaragrjrphia, Egyptian, at 1( .s-tta, I. 221

Hillain 1 '. M. Bt.and the occupation of Tunis
by tin- French. I. 1 13

Hippo K'-gia. I. 151

Hipocrates. I. ITS

Hiram. Tomb of, I. HIS ; ami Malaga, II. IDS

Hissarlik. II. 23

Homer. 1. 26; said to have been born at
Smyrna or Scio, 37 : said to have been
burn at Ephesus, 39 bis reference to
Sidon, 109: adventures of Odysseus :,t
Ithai-a. II. 130-140; and Ac-i licale. 19S

Homeric era, "Pillars of Hercules" in the.

Honorat. St.. II. 269

Himorins. Kmperor, and Ravenna, II. ."(i ;

t<niib of daughter, 59
Hoonit-es-Souk. capital of Djerba, I. 159
Horace, and his designation for the south

wind. I. 235 : journey to It unc. II. 80
>ir \V.. vietory over the French off

Lissa. I. 245

Hougoumnlit. Chateau of. I. 13
Hungary and Fiume, II. 201
Huns. Tin 1 , and Dalmatia. I "3d
Hyhvs. 1. 17 : II. 267
Hyiuettiis. I. 170
HyjMtia at Ali'vndria. I. 2ns

lasih. II. 31

Ib'rian ran 1 ,,t I ienoa, I. IIS

Ida. M. , nut. Curii ,us ]iheniiiiienoii on, II lu

Illyria attacked by the Romans, I. 230

Imbros. II. 22

Imtarfa, II. 53

Im-nilim-. Tin.. I. ;s

India. British trade with. I. :!1

Inscriptions on rocks n,Mr Hrirut I 111

[nieoaa. D-tilc ,,f tin-, i. si;

Lillian M'imU. I. hi) ; Corfu. [I. I 1 .': 1 , ]>!!

I'aM, -Hid .\ntipl\o. I 1 ."., . .S;,,, t:1 M.,,,,,,'

and Levk.U. 182; M.-nnisi. Kalamo.
'"d > 134 : Ithaca, l:; i
''pi' 9 a 1 10; /ante. 1 1:; '

CeH^O, th- St|i.pb:,,| ,. Saliien/a. ami

I II

Ionian I.i.i^ur. Tin 1 . I. 2'i

Ischia, II. '-MS

Iskandcn'inr. l-'uins nf, I. lll'i

Islands of the Blest. I. I

Urafel. Tin 1 Angi'l, and a belief of the

.Mnslellis. 1. 217, -MS
Istlnniaii uaines. The, I. 171, 172
Mria, I. 233; 11. 258. 2.58 -'HI

//,(/w urtdmta, The. II. '-''><;

Italy, its barbi'iirs praised by Vit^il, 1. 23 :
I'Mieb b.-hind the times. 1 !. ,xo

Ithaea. its e.q.ital Vatl'V, I '. 130: adven-
tures. ,f Odfmeat, l:;i'i -140

Ivi/.a, I. 2."!); almnlids. and tigs. St. .Iran,
St. Kulalia. St. Antonio, and t'ni'titiia-
tions. 279: winding stunts and eharae-

teristies nt' On 1 people, 280

Ivory on houses in Tangier, I. C

.lall'a. Memorable events nt, I. 89, 91;

appearance, of, 9")
.lames. King, of Aragun, landing at Ifffijoraa,

I. 202. 271

.'apan, British trade with, I. 31
.leLeil. I. 113
Jebel Siinnin. highest iieak of Lclutuun, 1.

110

Jews, nt (Gibraltar, I. 10; in Snivrna, 26
John, Don, and the battle of Lemnto, I.

165

John Paheologos, Emperor, II. 29
John of Portugal, King, takes Centa from

the Moors, I. 20
John, St., the Evangelist, and Ephesus, I.

39, 43
Joseph of Arimathea, and the <; cutiiio

at Genoa, I. 133, 134
Juan. St., I. 279

Juarez, President, and the Emperor Maxi-
milian, II. 2"iS
Julius Cffisar, entry into Rimini, II. 71 ; and

Pola. 2;j'J

.Tnmeh, Bay of , I. 113
Jumper, Captain, and the siege of Gibraltar,

1. 18
Juno, Lacinian, Worship of, at Cotrone, II.

100
Jupiter, Temple of, at Spalato, I. 2.">0 :

temple at Ortygia, II. 201
Jussuf Pasha. 1/104
Justinian and Theodora, represented in

mosaics at the church of St. Vitale,

Raveniri, II. 64
Justinopolis, II. 2o8

Kadisha, River, I. 115

Kadjali. II. 31

Kantara, I. 42

Kara Bournou. Promontory of, I. 23

Kastrades. Bay of, II. 126

Kaz-el-Dagh, Fortress of, I. 23

Keats. Grave of, II. 173

Kelebia. the ancient Clypea, I. 1.V2

Kerka, Falls of. I. 244

Kerouan, I. 147; origin, mosques and wj.lls

of, 153

Khalil. Melek, I. 102
Klinnmii: The. I. 143, 146
Knights Templars of Rhodes, struggle to

obtain Smyrna, I. 27
Knin, I. 243

Kolnphonians, The. and Smyrna, I. 26
Konlali. II. :io

Kurds. The. in Smyrna. I. 26
Kynosema. II. 20

I.a Hayo, Farmhouse of, I. 13
La Mortoln. Point, II. 278
IM Pnebla. I. 273

l.-lgnnlis ef ronricelli.i, II. 70

I.IHJHIIII .]i,,,t<i. The. at Venice, II. 2."0
Laissc/.faire." The doctrine of. and Turkisli

rule. I. 28
I.ampsiiki, II. 28
landslip at Hoi|iii'bnine. II. 27<s
Lane-Poole, Mr. Stanhy. and the Xile, I.

L"J| i

i ,:e uiiedon, II. 22
I.as I'almas. II. 19.'i
I.atnna. flight to E]ihesns. I. :!n
l.'iviui rie. Cardinal, and sel.eme to rebuild

Cartilage. I. |.,ij

I.a/arus, Legend respecting, at Marseilles,

I. 03

l.e 1'aradis. I. 43

I.eander. swiinming the Hellespont. II. 28
Lebanon, Silk factories of. I. 98: highest

peak of. 110; the Druses of. 110
Legend concerning Lazarus. I. (i:; ; of St.

Anthony and the fishes, II. 73
Leghorn, I. 70, 111); its dulness. history.

and canals, II. 178; streets, liarlk.ur.

trade, statue of Ferdinand, and burial

place of Smollett. 17'.)
I emnns. Volcanic mountain of, II. 19
I cntini, II. 199
I. en. The ei ijisiellation, and Berenice's lucks

I. 220
Leopold of Austria, ami Trieste, II, 250

Lepant.i. liattl '. I. 101 ; II. 212

Lepers at I'atras. I. 10")

Lerici, and Shelley's last days. II. 172

Lelilis. Vincent de. at St. HolK'nit. II. 2011

Lesbians, The, II. 27 '

Lcslios, I. 23

Lesina. I. 214

Lessens, M. de, and the Suez Cair.l, I. 230

Levie, I. 86

Levkas. probable identity with the Homeric

Doulichion, II. 132; Sappho's Leap,

Mount Skaros, and ruins of Temple of

Apollo, 133. 131 ; Maduri, 135
Lia, II. 51
Library, Garrison, at Gibraltar, I. 11 ; at

Alexandria. 210
Lighthouse at Dakhel, I. 152; of Ta Giur-

dan, II. :j(i
Liguria, noted for the cunning of its people,

I. 118

Ligmian Sea, II. 267
Limpia. ILirbour and village of, II. 4
Lion of St. Mark at Venice, II. 217
Lipari Islands, II. 87
Lisbon, I. 17
Lissa, Island of, Notable events at the. I.

21.)

Livy, and the extent of Cotrone. II. 100
Lloyd Company, Austrian, II. 250
Lluch, I. 271
Locarno, II. 280
Locrians, The, II. 91
Lombards, The, sack of Ancona, II. 75
l.i.-hix. The, I. 159
Louis, St.. I. 150
Louis XIV., I. 17: and the storming of

Barcelona, ins

Lngarno. II. 2SO

Luis Salvator, Archduke, and Miramar, I.
267, 208

Luke, St., his picture of the Virgin, II. 264

Lully, Raymond, site of his college at Mira-
mar. I. 268

Luna, Remains of, II. 174

Luri, I. 74

Lydia, Kings of, attack Smyrna. I. 20

Lyell, Sir Charles, on the formation of the
Dardanelles and the Bosphorus, II. 31

Lyons, Climate of, 1. 203

L\sandor, victory at the JEgos-Potamos,

I.ysiiiiachus, II. 31

Macgregor, Mr. John (Hob Roy), and the
ruins of Tanis, I. 229

Mncomer, II. 152 151

Maduri, II. 135

Magnan. The, II. 12

Magyars, The. I. 230

Mahadia, I. 157

Mahon. Port. I. 202. 275

Matto. Gulf of, II. 27

Majorca, I. 25!); reputed origin and de-
scription by Florus, 201; Harbour of
Palma, Santa Ponza. and lielher Castle.
202 ; houses and people of Palma, 263
205; divided into two parts, 205; liay
of Alcudia. 260; Valldemosa. 200. 207';
Miramarand the Archduke Luis Salvator.
267, 21,8; Soller. 209 271 ; Pollensa. 271 :
caves, 274

Malaga. I. 40; raj, id development, II. 105;
climate, general appearanc". and con-
venient position for excursions. Irti ; th"
Alpujarras. 100; Phienician oriuin. IDS;
history, llo 115; water supply, 111:
the vineyards. 113: sugar industry. Ill;
Castle, Grecian Temple, and the Alcazaba,
111: attractiveness of the women. 115;

GENEEAL INDEX.

285

harbour, 110: Almeria, 118; Cape de
Gatt, 119; the Sierra Tejacla, the Sierra
Nevada, 120; Trevelez anil Alhundin.
121 ; Laujaron, the Muley Hacen, and
the Picacho, 122

Malamocco, II. 250

Miilta, I. 244 : " England's eye in the Medi-
terranean," II. 32 ; formerly a peninsula
of Africa, and its fertility, 34 ; Gozo,
Comino, and Cominetto, and the Funijn*
jllcliti'i/xif, 35 ; the Go/itaus, 38

Man with the Iron Mask, II. 269

Marble Island, II. 30

Marcus Aurelius, inscription near Beirut,
I. Ill

Maremma, The, II. 185

Marengo, Battle of, I. 121

Marfa, II. 39

Marguerite, Ste., II. 269

Maria Theresa and Trieste, II. 256

Mariette Bey and the ruins of Tanis, I. 229

Mark, St., at Alexandria, I. 208 ; reputed
place of burial, 218; Lion at Venice, II.
247

Marmano, I. 86

Marmora, II. 30, 31

Marriages of Greeks at Marseilles, I. 55, 56

Marsala, II. 211

Marseilles, I. 23 ; its Greek origin, and im-
portance as the capital of the Mediter-
ranean, 46 ; history, 47, 58 ; appearance
from the sea, 48 ; the Old Port and the
Caimebiere, 49, 50 ; the Bourse, pro-
menades, and statues of Pytheas and
Euthymenes, 50 ; flower market and
the Prado, 51 ; the Coruiche road
and bottillitbaitwe, 51, 52; Public Garden,
Chateau d'lf, and the quays, 54; har-
bours, Greek merchants, and marriage
customs, 55, 56 ; Greek type in the
physique of the people, 57 ; hotels,
cholera, plague, and the 'itiislml, 59, 60 ;
Palais des Arts and the Church of St.
Victor, 62 ; Church of Notre Dame de la
Garde, 63 ; Chain of Estaques, fortress,
and people, 66; birthplace of distin-
guished men, 67 ; its proud position, 68

Martin, Cap, II. 276

Mary, The Virgin, and Ephesus, I. 43 ;
image at St. Victor's, Marseilles, 63 ; St.
Luke's, Picture of, II. 264

Mary Magdalene and Ephesus, I. 43

Mascaron, I. 67

Massa, Quarries and palace at, II. 175

Massena, General, at Genoa, I. 120

Maximilian, Emperor, II. 258

Medea, Pursuit of, II. 259

Mediterranean, The deep interest connected
with the cities and ruins on the shores of
the, I. 2 ; Tarifa, 2, 3 ; Tangier, 46 ;
Gibraltar, 6 18; Algeciras, San Roque,
andEstepona, 19 ; Ceuta, 19 22; abund-
ance of harbours, 23 ; Smyrna, 23 45 ;
Scio, 3739; Ephesus, 3944; Mar-
seilles, 4668 ; Corsica, 6988 ; Syrian
Coast, 89116; Genoa, 117141 ; Tunis,
142160; Gulf of Corinth, 160180;
Barcelona, 181 206 ; Alexandria, 207
231 ; Dalmatia and Albania, 232258 ;
Balearic Isles, 259280 ; Nice, II. 117:
Dardanelles, 1832 ; Malta, 3354 ;
Ravenna to Brindisi, 55 80; Calabria,
81104; Malaga, 105122; Ionian Is-
lands, 123144: Sardinia, 145 100 ;
Algiers, 161171 ; Tuscan Coast, 172
193; Sicily, 194 217; Naples, 218 210:
Northern Adriatic (Venice, Trieste, Pola,
etc.), 241264; The Riviera, 263280

Medjerda, River, 1. 144 ; bridge over the, 150

Megara, Bay of, II. 200

Mehemet Ali, I. 102

Meleda, I. 244

Melos, River, I. 37, 42

Mentone, I. 51 ; mountain paths, II. 2, 7;

walks and drives at, 278
- Menzaleh, Lake, I. 227, 228

Mery, I. 67

Messina, II. 87 : the Straits and the Cathe-
dral, 90; route from Naples, 194 ; general
appearance, trade, cathedral, university,
etc., 195

Metaurus, The, II. 74

Michele, San, and Zara, I. 239

Migiarro, II. 38

Milis, Oranges of, II. 153

Miltiades and the wall of the Chersonese,
II. 31

Minden, I. 15

Minorca, I. 259 ; ruins of British fortifica-
tions, 262 ; English occupation and
French acquisition, 275 ; Port Mahon,
275 ; the " talayots," 275, 276 ; Monte
Toro and Fort St. Felipe, 276; St.
Cristobal, Roman cisterns, and Ciudadela,
277

Miraljeau imprisoned at Chateau d'lf, I. 54

Miramar, I. 267 ; the Archduke Luis
Salvator, 267, 268 ; Castle of, II. 25S

Misada, II. 51

Missolonghi, I. 164

Mislni/, The, I. 59 ; at Nice, II. 7

Mithridates, defeat at Ephcsus, I. 39

Mohammed II. and Tenedos, II. 21

Mohammed IV. and the Jewish impostor,
II. 27

Mohammedans at Smyrna, I. 27 ; at Tunis,
142

Mo'.e at Gibraltar, I. 9, 12, 13, 16

Moli di Santa Teresa, II. 258

Monaco, I. 31 ; description of, II. 274,
275

Monastir and the first expedition to North
Africa, I. 156

Monreale, Cathedral and Abbey of, II. 210

Monte Carlo, II. 7 : its beauty, 275

Monte-Cristo and Chateau d'lf, I. 54

Monteleone, II. 95

Montenegro, I. 257

Montpellier, I. 203

Monuments to Elliot and Wellington at
Gibraltar, I. 11

Moorish Castle at Gibraltar, I. 13, 14

Moors in Gibraltar, I. 9 ; Ceuta taken from
the, 20; in Spain, II. 110

Mosque of the Djama-el-Kebir at Tangier,
I. 6 ; at Tunis, 147 ; at Beja, 151 ; at
Algiers, II. 163

Mosques of Kerouan, I. 153, 154 ; of Alex-
andria, 218

Mountain of the Twin Brothers, I. 23

Murano, II. 250

Murat, King, and the extermination of
brigands, II. 83

Muro, Cape, I. 84

Musta, II. 53

Mustapha Pacha, I. 219

Nagara, Cape of, on the site of Abydos, II.
27

Nahr Ibrahim, The. 1. 1 13

Nah'r-el-Joseh, or Walnut river, I. 115

Napier, Sir C., bombardment of Jabeil, I.
114

Naples, I. 23 ; its population and trade, 46 ;
beauty of position, and charming en-
virons, II. 218; sordid surroundings of
the port, 219; streets, trades, and ul
frexru toilettes, 220 ; Piazza degli Oretici,
'and cruelty to animals, 222; snails, goats,
water-sellers, and chapel of St. Jiiminrius.
223 ; churches of Sta. Chiara, S. Dome-
nico Maggiore, and S. Lorenzo, 225 ;
antiquities of National Museum, Capri,
Villa Na/ionale. and Grotto di Posilipo,
226; "Corniche" of Posilipo. and Roman
ruins, 227; Pozzuoli, 228; Monte Nuovo,
and Avernus, 229 ; environs of Baiffs and
Cumse, and fascination of Capri, 230
235 ; the drive to Castellamare, 235 ;
Sorrento, 236; Amalfl, 238, 239; Salerno,
239, 240

Napoleon, Wars of, and Tarifa. I. 3 ; birth-
place of, 82 ; in Palestine, 100 ; and
Genoa, 121, 134; seizure of Barcelona.
198; defeat, at Alexandria, 219, 222; and
a project for a Suez Canal, 230 ; at Malta,
II. 49; and Calabria, 96 ; confinement at
Elba, and escape, 180183 ; at Venice.
243

Xapoleon III., march to Damascus, I. 112:
acquires Nice, II. 5

Narenta, Channel of, I. 244, 254

Nebi Mashuk, I. 108

Nebuel, Pottery of, I. 152

Negroes at Gibraltar, I. 10

Nelson, feasted at the Moorish Cnstle, Gib-
raltar, I. 14 ; victory at Aboukir Bay,
221, 222 ; plan for taking the citadel of
Corfu, II. 123 ; at Capraja, 183

Nero, and cutting the Isthmus of Corinth.
I. 167

Nervi, I. 137

Nevada, Sierra, II. 120, 121

Nicffia, II. 4

Nice, _. 17, 47, 51 ; Corniche lload of, 71 :
the Queen of the Riviera, II. 1 ; moiin-
tains, and its detiuetors, 2; three distinct
towns Greek, Italian, and French, 3 ;
harbour and village of Liuipia, and its
early history, 4; Castle Hill, 5; Haiilia
Capeu, and the ini*,t>'itl, 1 ; Italian division
and the Promenade du Midi, 7; cathedral
cf St. Rt'parate, the modern town, :iiiil
the Promenade des Anglais, 8 ; beauty nf
the private gardens, carnival and tmtJlc
of flowers, 9 ; the Jardin Public, quays
on the Paillon bank, and casino, 10;
theatre, Prefecture, flower market, the
Ponchettes, the Place Massena, the Boule-
vards Victor Hugo and Dubouehage,
Cimiez and Carabacel, 11 ; suburbs, 11,
12 ; the road to Monte Carlo, and Monaco,
14 ; Villefranche, and the infinite charms
of, 15 ; heights of Mont Alban, and the
Magnan valley, 16; ''gloriously l>eauti-
ful," 17

Nicholas Alexandrowitch, The Czarewitcb,
death at Nice, II. 12

Nile, The, alluvial deposit, I. 209 ; little of
the, 220 ; fertilising properties, 226

Nimes, I. 58

Nino, Lake of, I. 79

Notabile, II. 50 ; antiquity and manufac-
tures, 51 ; cathedral and churches, 54

Numidian kings. The, I. 151

Nuovo, Monte, II. 229

Nuraghe, The, of Sardinia, II. 155

"Oceanus, River," designation of the At-
lantic in Homeric times, I. 2

Octavius, defeat of Antony at Mustapha
Pacha, I. 219

Odessa, I. 68

Odysseus, adventures in Ithaca, II. 136 140

O'Hara's Folly, tower at Gibraltar, I. 14

Okba bin Narl'a, founder of Kerouan, I. 153

Olive Island, II. 263

Olmetto, I. 83

Olympus, II. 19

Orange, I. 58

Oranges, at Spezzia, I. 139; at Milis, II.
153

Orbitello, Etruscan relics at, II. 186

Origen, buried at Tyre, I. 107

Oristano, II. 152154

Orontes, The, I. 94

Ortygia, Island of, II. 200; temple of
Jupiter, and the Latomia, 201 ; Greek
Theatre, 202

Ostia, II. 191, 192

Ostrogoths, The, and Marseilles, I. 58

Otho, son of Frederick I., II. 259

Otranto, Strait of, I. 258

Oued Zergiia, Massacre at, I. 151

Oxia, Archipelago of, I. 164

Picstum, II. 92

Pugus, Mount, I. 45

Paillon, The, II. 15

Paintings in the Palais des Arts, Marseilles,
I. 62

Palaces of the East, I. 23

Palreopolis, II. 126

J'nlassi, The, of Genoa and Venice, I. 123

Palermo, II. 206 : first impressions disap-
pointing, and the imposing aspect of the
streets. 207 ; the Palazzo Reale, 208; the
Cuppella Palatina,, church of Martorana,
and the Cathedral, 209; observatory,
Monreale. 210 ; museum, and the rocks
of Pellegrino,etc.,215; thePiazzaMarina,
216 ; its beauty at sunset, 217

Palestine, The battle-field of, I. 99

Pallanza, II. 267

Palma, Harbour of. I. 262 ; houses and
people of, 263 ; the RambH, 264 ; choco-
late-making, 265

Palo, II. 190

Palodes, and the death of Pan, II. 130

Panimilus of Megara, and the founding of
Selinus, II. 212

Pan. The god, and Ephesus, I. 39 ; legend
about his death, II. 130

Pandosia, II. 102

Paoli, Pascal, Work in Corsica of, I. 78

Pareatium. II. 258

Parnassus, I. 161, 162, 174, 175; snow of,
170

286

THE PIC Tl ///: NY,), r/-; MEDITEEEANEAN.

Parthenon, The, I. 17"

Pashas. Tl \tottionsof. 1. 27

Pa^Ton-t. DC. 1 . 07

I. 105; tradition of St. Andrew's

crucifixion at, 10<)
Patrick. St.. at St. Ili.n.uat. II. 209

-lus. Tomi.ot. II. 23
Paul. St.. at Kph.-siis, I. 13; at (

'.'7 : at Acie. MIL': at Corinth. 171: scene

of shipwreck. 21 1 ; voyage to Rome. II.

IS; wrecked at (i/.eier, 35; jiopularity at

Malta. 11
r .-iv is. an i tin Isthmus ni i 'orinth, I.

167

l'..\o. and Antipaxo. II. 129
Peak of Tcncnttc, and the rock at Ccuta, I.

22
"Pearl of the Mediterranean." designation

of Ajaccio. I. S2

of tin- Orient, The," name for

Smyrna. I. 23

PeUegrino. Monte, II. 210, 211

Pellew. Admiral, and the destruction of the

pirate fleet. II. 190

l'c|n]ionnesian wars and Ahydos. 11.27, 120
Peloponnesus. I. Kit)
Pelusium. I. 111. 2H9; ruins of. 228
Periander. I. 107
Perini del Vaga, his frescoes at (ienoa,

I. 12S
Pesaro, II. 71

IVtr.-irch, II. 225

i"h Xccho, I. 89
Pharos of Tarifa, The. I. 2
Philip Augustus. 1. KI2
Philip of Maccdon calls the City of Corinth

the " fetters of Greece," I. 167
Philip V.. I. IS; iKimbards Barcelona. 1!IS
Phocasi, I. 40

I'h.enicia. I. 103; plain of. 105
PhiiMiicians. their designation of (Vnta. I.

22 ; at Marseilles, 47 ; on the Svrian

coast, 94; founding of Carthage, 150;

and Malaga. II. 108

Piana. Isola. and the tunny fishery, II. 157
Pianosa. II. 182; historical associations, 1S3
Piave, Delta of the, II. 253
Pictra Santa. II. 17o
Pietro di Verde. St., Forest of, I. 86
Pietro Negro, II. 3.5
Pietro. S.. II. 157. 159
"Pillars of Hen-nles." I. 1; in Homeric

times. 2. 0. 22, 47. 94
Pindar and his designation of Agrigcntum

II. 203

line Forest, the Great, of Ravenna. II
87,99

Pin Xono, Birthplace of, II. 71

Piombino. II. 183

Pirano. II. 258

Pirates of Barbary. I. 47

Pisa, rival of (ienoa, I. 119: Cathedral.
Campo Santo, baptism, anil leanim.
towerof, II. 170, 177

Plague, The, at Smyrna. I. 32, 34 ; at Mar-
seilles. 59. 0(1; at Palermo, II. >!!

Planca. Cape of, I. 244

Pliny. I. 141. 215

Plutarch and the Isthmus of Corinth, I. 107
ai.d the voyage of Epitherses, II. 129

Pola, II. 259; ancient "history and Roman
remains. 200; amphitheatre and streets,
201; fortifications and docks. 203

Policoro and the vi.-toi v of I'vrrhns over the
Romans. II. 1112

Pollensa, Pict- -of. and the Castillo

del Rev, I. 273

Pnllino, Monte, II. 92

Polyearp, Tomb of, at Smyrna. I. 45

Polymestor, Murder of the sons of, II. -'i;

Polyphemus and Aci H.-ale. II. p.is

Piimp-y and Pnli. II. 25: 1

Pompey's Pillar. I. 215

Etna, st . II. 12

Populonia, II. is:; ; d, t,-at of Lars Porsenna
Uusmm. and possession by the
Etruscans, ls|

-idj 31.225; coaling station. 227

I 75. 82: I i nil of. 8->
Port Cm mi , II. 191. l<r>

'in. i. I. 1 I)
I. King.l.ihn tak- Ceutl from the

I. L'l I

Hi. II. 22

I'Uel, I. 1.52

Po//.noli. Hay of, II. 219. 221). L'L'S : town of,
L'L'S ; allunon of Alexandre Dumas, L'2'.l

Priam. II. 22

Prim. Mnnnnient to. at P.aivelona. I. ISlI

Promontore. Cape, 11. 202

Propriann. I. SI

Proserpine, Temple of. at Ilntarfa, II. .53

Proverb about the baneful influence , I tic-
Turks. 1 . 27

Ptolcmais. I. 102

Ptolemy Philadelphia and the Temple of
Arsenoe, I. 219

Pnglia. II. lir,

I'uig .Mayor. I. 2li9

Puiita de Africa. The, the Africa 11 I'illar of
Hercules. I. 19

Purple of Tyre. I. 100

Pyramid of Skulls at Djorba, I. 1.5!)

Fyrgos, II. 190

Pyrrhusand Southern Italy, II. 102

Pytheas, I. 47 : statue at Marseilles, ,50

Pythian games. I. 17-"'

Quarry of the Cappucini, II. L'OL"
Queretaro and the Emperor Maximilian.
II. 2,38

Kabato, II. 38

Ragusa, I. 241 ; defences of, 2-54, 25.5

Railway to Eplit sus. I. 39. 40 ; at Tunis, 1 10

Hameses. I. 89, 112: and Pelusium, 229

Rainlii, Bay of, II. 28

Kamleh, I. 219

liapallo, Bay of, I. 137

Kaphael, 1/128

Uaphuel, St., II. 267

Ras-el-Ain, I. 100

Ras-ez-Zebib, I. 141

Ras Sidi Ali-el-Mekhi. I. 144

liavenna, Fen-land of, II. .5.5; history, 56:
unique character, ,57 ; its treasures of
architecture and art. .">7 ; Piazza Mag-
giore, 58; Theodoric's Palace and
Sepulchre, 59 ; the Maiisoleiim. 00 :
Church of St. A]>olliiiare Nuovo, 02 ;
Church of St. Vitale. 03 ; tomb of Dante,
Church of St. Apollinare in Clause, and
pine forest, 04, GO, 67 ; Church of St.
Maria in Porto Fuori, 65

Raymond, Count, and the Castle at Tripoli
I. 11.5

Raymond des Tours, I. 67

Recco. I. 137

Regnlus, Attilius. I. 1-14

Renaissance work in the Mausoleum at
Ravenna, II. 62

Kenan, and ruins of church at Tyre, I. 107 ;
and the tomb of Hiram, 109

Revolution. French, and Venice, II. 243

Richard the Lion-hearted, I. 93, 94, !()>
discovery of his identity at Vienna, fl!

Kichard II. and the first exiieditioii to
North Africa, I. 150

Rimini, and the story of Francosca, II. 70
72; castle of the Malatestas, "2; Pia/zo
Giuglio Cesare, and the churches. 7:; ;
River Marecchia. and the Corso d' Au-
gusta, 74

Rip Van Winkle anticipated by the Seven
Sleepers, I. 44

Riva. II. 207

Riviera, The, general aspect, II. 265: origin
of name, 206 ; extent, and climate, 207
the Ksterel. Agay, Golfe de la Napoule,
08 ; Ste. Marguerite, and St. Honorat
209 ; Cannes, 270274 ; Monaco, 274 ;
Monte Carlo, 275 : Mentone, 270, 278
Roquebrune, 276, 278 ; Bordighera, and
San Remo, 279 ; Alassio and Savoiia '>80

l.'ivn-ia di Lovante. I. 136; II. 206

Riviera di Ponente. I. 136; 11.207

Hoeellii loniai. II. !)1

Rodney, Lord, and the siege of Gibraltar, I.

Roger II., II. 209

Hogcrs, Samuel, on Andrea. Doria,, I. p>0

liogliano. Pasture lands of, I. 71

Romans. The, their i ule at Smyrna I ->6
at Mars.-il!,.... 17. 5g; ;lt (;,.,,.,_ U , s . iu
Ajnca. 1 12; and Illyria. 230; at Pollens-,,
278; at Xica-a. II. I ; at Al.vdos, 27 ; at
Malaga, 11(1; in Sardinia, 100; at Trieste
2.55

Ronda. Mountains of. 1. 1 |

KOI ike. Sic ( ieor_e. and the sir"-,- of (iibral-

tar, I. 17
Hoi|uel,rune. II. 27D: <|uaint storv connected

with. 278

BolB, The Chevalier, and til" pla"ne at

Marseilles. I. 00

Bom of the Kiviera. II. 265

Kns.ita. I. 21S. L'L'l ; reputed birthplace of
Ilaroun Al Hasliid. 223 ; English expedi-
tion of 180", 223; arclia-ological dis-
coveries, 224

liosia llay. (iibraltar. I. 12. 10. 19

lin-sini. Birthplace of, II. 74

Hostang. I. 67

Hnudairc. Commandant, and his scheme for
the submersion of the Sahaia. I. 157.
100

RovigiKt. II. 2-'ii)

RutVo. Cardinal, and Cotrnne. II. 101

Ruselhe, II. 187

Ruskin. Professor, on St. Mark's. Venice,
II. 241. 210

Sabatai'-Sevi, a pretended Messiah. II. "7

Sabbioncella, Peninsula of. 1. 211

Xiirn, ciit'uni. The. at Genoa. I. 133, 134

Sahel Mountains, The, II. 102

SalV. I. 229

Saladin, I. 102

Salamis, Bay of. I. 170

Salerno, II. '239 : temples at. 210

Sulles, De, I. 07

Sallnst, reference to Vacca, I. 1.51

Salintm, II. 53

Salona, Diocletian's ]>lsice of retireniDnt. I.
247: ruins of old town, and characteristics
of the new. 252, 253

Salonica, II. 27

Salvia Postuma, and the arch at Pola, II.
200

Salvian, at St. Honorat, II. 209

Samos, II. 140

Samothrace, Deluge of, II. 31

Samson, and the gates of Gaza. I. 91

San Pietro, Island of, I. 143

San Remo, II. 7, 279, 280

San Roque, I. 19

Sail Salvador, II. .51

Sand, Georges, opinion of Minorca. 1. 20S

Sand dunes, at Jaffa. I. 90 ; at Tyre. 1(10

Sanguinaire Islands, I. 83
\Xii/t{ii t'lixit, II. 264

Santa Croce, Cape, II. 200

Santa Marine! la, II. 190

Santa Maura, Castle of, II. 132

Santa Ponza, I. 202

Santa Severa, II. 190

Sapienza, II. 143

Saracens, at Smyrna, I. 20. 27: at Marseilles.
58; at Genoa, 119; at Ancona, II. 70;
In Sardinia, 100; at Civita Ven-hia. iss

Sarcophagus of Ashmunazar, King of Sidun.
I. 109; atGirgenti, II. 20-1

S.u-dinia, View from Bonifacio of, I. S8 ;
Genoa annexed to. 121; insalubrity, 145:
neglect by tourists. 110; peculiarities of
costume, and superstitions of the people,
14"; variations of population, 148; Cag-
liari, 149 152; Macomer, and Oristano.
152 154: the "nuraghe," 155; ancient
idols, and their destruction ordered by
Gregory the Great, 157; tunny-tish. 157':
Isola Puma, and St. Pietro, 157; Asmara
and S. Antioco. 159

Sarona, I. 96

Saronic Gulf, I. 166

Saros, Gulf of, II. 31

Sartene, and the Corsican Brothers, I. Nl

Banana, II. 173, 174

Sassari, II. 152

Satnrma, II. 187

Savona, II. 280

Savoy, Counts of, and Nice, II. .5

Slieit'la, I. 155

Schliemann, Dr., excavations of. at Hassarlik.

II. 23, 24

Scilla, and the earthquake of 1783, II. 87
Scio, Isle of, said to have been the birthplace

of Homer, I. 37; its liistory. 37 39 :

slaughter of the people by the Turks.

Scipio. destruction of Carthago bv. I. 150
Seoglio Grande. II. 20-,
Scoglio Mario, II. 3.5
Si ulai-i. I. 258
Scylla and Charybdis. II. S7. 191.

GENERAL INDEX.

287

Sebenico, history and chief features, I. 2i:>
Sebta, or Septeni, derivation of " Ceuta," I.

20.

Segesta, II. 212 ; temples at, 214
Selimmto, II. 212 ; ancient temples at, 214
Senglia, II. 50

Serapeum, The, at Alexandria, I. 216, 217
Serapis, Temple of, I. 208
Seravezza, Marlilu quarries at, and Michael

Angclo, II. 175
Serpentine at Spez/.ia, I. 1 38
Sestos, II. 28

Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, I. -1 1
Sfax, I. 157

Shakespeare, allusion to the Nili>, I. 227
Shalmaneser, anil the aqueduct at Tyre, I.

106

Sharon, Plain of, I. 90
Sheba, Queen of, and the Micro cntiiio in the

cathedral of (ienoa, I. 134
Shelley, last days at Lerk'i, and death, II.

172, 173
Shovel, Sir Cloudesley, and the siege of

Gibraltar, I. 18
Sicily, appearance from the sea, II. 19") ;

Messina, 19.), 190 ; Taormina, 196, 197 ;

Etna, and Aci Reale. 198, 199; Ortygiu.

200; Syracuse, 201, 202; Girgenti, 203

20(i; Palermo, 207211 ; San Giuliano,

211, 212; Selinunto, 212; Monte Pelle-

grino, 216
Siculus Diodorus and the earthquake at

the Dardanelles, I. 32
Sicyon, Ancient and modern, I. 163
Sidi Bou Saeed, I. 146
Sidon, I. 10"> ; a counterpart of Tyre, streets,

trade, mosques, cemeteries, etc., 109
Siege of Gibraltar, I. 1518
Sierra of the Snows, The, I. 14
Simon the Tanner, House of, I. 9.)
Simos and Protis, supposed founders of

Marseilles, I. 46
Sinigaglia, II. 74
Sirocco, The, in Dalmatia. I. 23.)
Slavonians, The, in Smvrna, I. 26
Slavonic race, The, I. 236
Smith, Sir Sidney, and Napoleon at Acre,

I. 102
Smollett, Tobias, Grave of, II. 179

Smyrna, Appearance of, and clearness of
the atmosphere, I. 23 ; various names
given to, 23 ; people of, and architecture.
24 ; Jewish and Armenian quarters, and
the Frank city, 24 ; street nomenclature
and absence of family names, 25 ; babel
of tongues, 26; history, 2631 ; the
Turks of, 29, 30 ; trade, 3032 ; plague
in, 32 ; cholera in, 34 ; donkeys and their
drivers, 34, 35 ; camels of, 35 ; beauty of
the women of, 36 : said to have been
the birthplace of Homer, 37 ; railways,
39 42 ; Mount Pagus and the tomb
of Polycarp, 4j ; gateway to the ea".t,
45, 68

Smyrna, Bay of, I. 23

'' Smyrna, the beloved," I. 23

Snails as an article of diet, II. 223

Soldiers at Gibraltar, I. 10

Soliman, I., II. 28

Seller, I. 268 ; cleanliness and order, and boot
and shoe industry, 270 ; toy harbour,
pirates, and adventure of M. Arago,
271

Solomon's Temple, Timlier for, I. 95

Solta, I. 244

Sorrento, II. 5, 235 ; and Tasso, 236

Souk-el-Arbiia, I. 151

Sovana, II. 187

Spain, Rock of Calpe. I. 2 : landing of first
Berber Sheikh, 2; antiquity of the
Moorish Castle, Gibraltar, 13 ; driven
from Gibraltar, 16; acquires Ceuta, 21 ;
and Columbus, 131 : the most Catholic
country in the world, 190 ; great number
of holidays, 201 ; Caballero, lady no-
velist, 203; piquancy of the women, 20") ;
II. 115 ; unsettled condition of, I. 205

Spalato, I. 243 ; architectural interest of,
244, 249 ; church of, 248, 251

Spalmadore, I. 244

Spanish, The, at Gibraltar, I. 10

Spanish Succession, War of the, I. 18

Spelunca, The, Corsica, I. 81

Spezzia, Scenery around, I. 117 ; arsenal of,
123 ; exquisite scenery and remarkable
situation, 138; oranges at, 139; villages
around. 141 ; harbour and men-of-war,
141; Bay of, II. 172

Stanfield's painting of Vico, II. 235
Statuary, English, its inferior character.

I. If
Stone, Egyptian, witli inscription, at Roscttti.

I. 224

Stopford, Admiral, at Acre, I. 102
Strabo, I. 215

Street nomenclature at Smyrna, I. 25
Stromboli, II. 87, 211
Strophades, The, II. 143
Suadieh, I. 94

Suez Canal, I. 23, 31, 41,42,47,08; con-
struction by M. de Lesseps, a divam

realised, 230

Sulla sacks Rimini, II. 71
Susa, History of, I. 152
Sybaris, II. 92
Syracuse, II. 198 ; interest aiul beauty of,

200
Syrian Coast, Ga/.a, I. 90, 91 ; Askelon, 92 ;

Jaffa, 95 ; Caesarea, 96, 97 ; Dor and

Carmel, 98 ; Haifa, 100 ; Acre. 101 ;

Ras-en-Nakurahand R:\s-eI-Abiad. 103;

Tyre, 106; Sidon, 109; Beirut, 110;

Jumeh and Gebal, 113; Batiiin, 114;

Tripoli, 115
Syrians in Smyrna, I. 24

Tabarca, Island of, I. 143

Taggia, II. 279

Tagliamento, Delta of the, II. 25:!

Talamone, II. 186

"Talayots," The. of Minorca, 1.275,276,

278, 279

Talion Keui, II. 20
Talismans, \vit!i names of the Stiven Sleei>ers,

1.44

Tailored, I. 101
Tangier, Bay of, I. 4 ; distant view and

features of the town of, 6 ; expedition of

Edward, soil of King John of Portugal,

against, 20
Tanis, Ruins of (Zoan of the Old Testament),

I. 229

Taonnina, II. 195; elevation of. 196 ; beauti-
ful prospect and ruins of Greek theatre,

197

Taranto II. 99 ; and Pyrrhus, 102, 103
larascon, 1. 47
Tarif Ibn Malek, first Barber sheikh who

landed in Spain, I. 2
Tarifa, The Pharos of, I. 2 ; the arms, town,

and history of, 3
Tarquinii, Ruins of, II. 187
Tasso and Sorrento, II. 236
Tchardak, II. 29
Tejada, Sierra, II. 120
Tell Kadi, Aqueduct at, I. 1(16
Tenedos, Island of, II. 19, 20; seat of the

worship of the Smynthian Apollo, 21 ;

its various possessors, 21
Teneriffe, II. 195
Tergeste, II. 255, 256
Termini, II. 207
Termoli, II. 78

Term/, The, of Malaga, II. 106
Tete de Chien, II. 275
Teuta, Queen, and the murdorof the Roman

ambassador at Lissa, I. 245
Thackeray and tauilladaUte, I. 52
Theocritus' allusion to Zante. II. 143
Theodore, St., statue at Venice, II. 247
Theodoric the Great and Ravenna, II. 58,

Thiers, M., I. 67

Thucydides' allusions to Corfu, II. 124
Tiber, The, II. 191

Timour the Tartar besieges Smyrna, I. 27
Tintoret, I. 129
Tireh, I. 43
Titian, I. 129

Torcello, the ancient Altinum, II. 251
Torre dell' Annunziati, Manufacture of

macaroni at. II. 235
Torres, Porto, II. 157
Touzli Boumon, I. 42
Trade of Smyrna, I. 2931
Trajan, and North Africa, I. 142 ; his

aqueduct at Carthage, 150 : arch at An-

cona, II. 77 ; founder of Civita Vecchia,

188

Tramontana, The, of the Riviera, II. 106
Trani, II. 79
Trapani, II. 211
Trail, I. 246
Trevelez, II. 121

Trieste, I. 68, 233 ; eimtrasted with VnuV.-.
II. 253 ; streets, and church of St. An-
tonio, 254; cathedral. 251. 255; early
history, 255 ; population and present
position, 256; harbour, and surrounding
scenery, 257; Castlt- of Miramar. and
Istrian coast. 25s

Trinacria, II. 211

Tripoli, the "maritime Damasn . ' liousi .
tramways, and castle, I. 115

"Tristram Shandy," and British merchants
in Turkey, I. 31

Triton, Lake of, I. 160

Troad, The, II. 21

Troy, Cape, II. 21 ; Plain of, 23

Tunis, I. 47 : original inhabitants, and
various possessors, 142; island of Tabarca,
the K/wiiHiir, and Bizerta, 143; Porto
Farina, Ras-ez-Zebib, and Blake's attack,
144; Uticaand the suicide of Cato, site
of Carthage, the Golettu, and the victory
of Charles V., 140; antiquity. Bab-cl-
Bahr, bazaars, Town Palace, and mosques,
147; architecture, and costume of the
people, 148 ; the women, walks around,
and Palace of the Bardo, 149; remains
of Carthage, approach by railway, and
places of interest, 150; Souk-el-Arbija,
Beja, and Oiled Zergila, 151 ; Kelebia,
Nebuel. Susa, 152; Keroua-n, 153; mosque
of Sidi Okltt, 154 ; Sbeitla, and amphi-
theatre of El-Djem, 155 ; Monastir, and
the first expedition to North Africa, 156 ;
Sfax. Gabes, the daring scheme of Ron-
daire, and the island of Djerba, 157, 159;
the lofits, and Pyramid of Skulls, 159;
Lake of Triton, Z\irzis, and peninsula of
Cyrene, 160

Tunny fish in Sardinia, II. 157

Turbali, I. 43

Turbia, The. I. 51

Turks, at Gibraltar, I. 9 ; at Smyrna, 24.
2628 ; extortions of Pashas, 27 : at
Scio, 37, 38

Tuscan coast (xf? Lerici, Sarzana, Carrara,
Pisa, Leglvorn, Elba, Civita Vecchia,
etc.).

Twin Brothers, Mountain of the, I. 23

Tyre, I. 105 ; purple of, 106 ; ruins of
cathedral, burial-place of Origen, Crusa-
ders' walls, and the town of to-day, 107;
country around, 108

University of Barcelona, I. 195; of Valletta,

II. 48; of Messina, 195
Urban V.. Pope, and the church of St.

Victor. Marseilles, I. 62
Utica, and the suicide of Cato, I. 146 : II.

136

Valdoniello, Forest of, I. 75, 78, 79

Valeutinian. II. 00

Valldemosa, verdure, balmy air, and remains
of Carthusian Monastery, I. 266; moun-
tains of, 267

Valletta, II. 33 : fortress, buildings, popula-
tion, and abundance of labour, 39 ; the
Port, 40 ; military station, and peculiar
construction, 41 ; Strada Reale, 42 ; the
people, and public buildings, 43, 44 ; the
Knights, and various sieges, 46 ; military
hospital, 47 ; the University and the
prison, 48 ; visit of Bonaparte, and the
Strada Mezzodi, 49 ; suburbs, 50 ; Nota-
bile and Hainrun, 51 ; popularity of St.
Paul, 53 ; cathedrals, 53, 54

Vanderdussen, Rear-Admiral, and the siege
of Gibraltar, I. 18

Vasilika, I. 163

Vasina, I. 73

Vathy, II. 136

Vauban, Fortifications of, at Cannes, II.
272

Vegetation at Marseilles, I. 54

Veu, II. 187

Velebich Mountains, II. 262

Venice, I. 47, 68: contrasted with Genoa,
117; rival of Genoa, 119; the palazzi of ,
123, 124 ; II. 69; a town unequalled in
Europe, and general aspect, 241 ; history,
242 ; formation and shape, 243 ; view of
San Marco from the Piazza, 243 246 ;
date of erection, restoration, and interior
of St. Mark's, 246 ; view from the Molo,

288

Till-: PICTUBESQl '/; MKIrtTElUi. \ NEA .V.

aiu) 111.' ti' '. .HIT;'!,

2-Vi : Hands si,, lt.-nii;_' ii I'miu tin sea,
J.Hi 2.VJ

1 1 . 278

Vi-mis. Temple nf. nthus. I. K'.'.i;

shrine MI Kiy\. II. 212

Vi-MU- Xi-)>h\ I llr-. I . '.'I'.'

it, II. 2(12
m, [.117: !'. i' i; >. -'in

'. C.I >||C I],

I, 17'i

Viiti.r. Marshal. il : -'-rsd of his armv l>v

Cnl.,11,-1 (iMi^li :i> Tariia. I :;
Villa Kr.in. i. I. 17: tn-at> n!'. 1 1 . .'> ; jiic-

tlll, :. I.I

Viriiil. his pi-aim' ot' the harlxmrs (if Italy.
I. _':;; n-l'i-n-iici to ihi> ciinniiii; nt'

I lall-. I IS ; Jilarr nt' clratll. II. S! I ;

ami the Kly-ian Ki.-lil>. j:;n
Vi>ip,ths. Th,-. 1
Vittiiri..>a. II. M

Vi//av. p i. 1 . 7 (|

mo, ii. -J1I

W.i.l,.. Marslial. I. 11

Wallachians. Tin-. I. 'l-'x'i

\\':ll ot' the SjKIUiMl Sllrct'^sii'll, I. IS

\ViMli-hn]', (irni-i-al. at If .i>rita, 1. L'-'-l

Well i,f r.'iivnc. I. ICil

\Velliiif:tiin. Miiniiineiit at ( iiliraltar ti>, I.
11

Whittaker. Cajitain. and fie sie^-e nf (!lli-
l-altar. I. IS

William of Tyre, I. 107

\\Ynien nf Smyrna. I. L'l. :i(i : veiled. 33; of
t'ul-sica. 7-, 7^i, 7li : lieauty of. at Genoa,
118; restrictions at the Cathedral nl Qe-
linn ajtainst. I:>L': of S]iii, L'O."). L'lil : ..I'
Majorca. 263: of Nice. II. :>: of Catiin-
zaro, 1)8, !)!) : their attractiTenenat Malaga,
11."': <if Xaj.li's. _-J(): LI' Ca].ri. i;:;-.'

i'ixi's. I. Iti: and the

11.27

'v nl Alivdn-

Y.-ni Shi-liir. II. -22
Yi-nikr-.i. Vill-i.ue nf. II. 22
Y'linif.'. Dr.. ami the Ejjyiitian stone at
!. i-tta, I. 221

/aiilia. Bridjjc of, I. 81

Xante. Urn ill y and i'ert ility of. II. I i:i

Xara. ..i- .lailera. its history, I. 238, 230;
FortificatiolM and .streets' 2311: (M^1l^^rx
nf the [K'uple. ami market l.lnei-. "Ill-
churches. 211, 212

Xarxis. I. ICO

Xeniln-a. Island of. I. Ml

Xemliretta. Island of, I. 1 ! I

Zorko, II. US

Zo, I. 80

D The picturesque Mediterranean

973

v.2

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY